


In the Dark Air

by sinverguenza



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character Study, F/M, Gen, Het, Original Character(s), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-17 08:48:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5862460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinverguenza/pseuds/sinverguenza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rey starts a new life, but her and Ben have a history.  Now they're ready to hash it out.  </p><p>Also, motorcycles.  COMPLETE.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

“Good-bye, my chuck,” said Nan. “I’ve packed you a lunch. A lovely cheese sandwich and a packet of crisps, the ones that burn your mouth off, so mind that you don’t breathe on the lady next to you.

She held a small, brown sack out at me. I knew that she’d reused it a million times, the paper ridges folded soft and smooth.

My nan never wasted anything. Too many years spent scrimping, she said.

I took the sack from her. “Thanks, Nan. You didn’t have to. They feed me on the plane.”

“But you might get hungry. Might want a nibble.” Nan pulled me to her, hugged me tight. “I’ll miss you so, my darling. What a happy time we’ve had together.”

I put my arms around her, her body so much thinner than it was a year ago. The disease had eaten away at her quickly.

I felt tears come to my eyes. “Nan…”

“Now, now,” she said briskly. “No crying. It won’t be so long before we see each other again. You’ll see. Time’ll fly, and I’ll get better, and you’ll come back.”

That was the first time my grandmother lied to me.

I had a window seat, which I sank into gratefully, and pulled my jacket across my chest. I didn’t dare open my eyes when I felt someone sit next to me. Couldn’t bear the small-talk, even a bit of it.

The soft ping of the airplane noise echoed in my ears. I pulled my coat up around my chin, and, mercifully, I slept as I left London. My home. Where Nan lived. Where Mum was buried. 

I slept as I traveled the ocean, over sky and land. And when I woke, the plane had only just touched down. It was a merciful journey, short - but it didn’t feel real. It felt like I’d merely closed my eyes and opened them, to my new life. One that I didn’t choose.

I hauled my gear bag over my shoulder, the leather of bag and jacket squeaking against one another. My body hadn’t moved in 12 hours. I heard my bones creak as I padded down the jetway. 

_“Be good to him, Rey. He’s such a good man. So kind of him to have you for...awhile.”_

I remembered Nan’s soft plead from the night before as I skipped lightly down the stairs, toward the airport exit.

A wave of heat hit me. I’d almost forgotten the warm dryness of LA, even in the spring.

Nan hadn’t needed to remind me. I would be good for him. For my mother’s second husband.

“Rey.”

I heard his quiet, deep voice at my elbow. I’d been scanning the crowd of people, but had missed him. His hair was long, and his beard had more than a peppering of gray. He looked...old. And it had only been a year since I’d seen him last.

“Luke!” I’d been practicing how I would greet him - detached, shy - some sort of mold for our new relationship to come. Instead, when I saw him I felt unspeakable relief.

I held his eyes, for one brief second, and he looked at me warily. Like he didn’t know what to say to me, how to treat me. 

And then he opened his arms, and I crumpled toward him. He held me, and two ferocious tears fell from my eyes, but I refused to shed any more.

“Luke...everything is shit.”

He patted my arm but didn’t speak.

“Nan’s dying and she won’t let me help her.”

“I was sorry to hear she’s sick. She’s a kind woman,” said Luke. I loved that Nan and him got on, always. Even after he and Mum broke up. And especially after Mum died. I felt like he could understand me. We shared the loss of Mum together. He would understand my pain now.

“I sold my bike,” I said. I felt like an utter infant, complaining of a lost toy.

“We’ll get you another one. Your grandmother sent the money, plus some, I suspect.”

“And now I’m going to be in your face all the time, and I’m sorry about it. I feel awful about it.”

At this, he released me. “Do you remember what I said to you when your...mother and I decided to separate?”

I hated to remember that day. Mum and Luke had been married for quite awhile, and they had seemed happy together. I was 15 when Mum told me that we were moving back to Britain. I was surprised, to say the least. They never fought. I’d thought they’d got on, and I’d liked having Luke around. 

I remembered, though, what he’d said to me before we left. _I’m not your father, Rey, but I am like your dad. I’m like your dad, and I always will be. You should call me if you ever want to. Call me._

I hadn’t called, but Luke had. He visited whenever he was in Britain. Him and Mum, chatting over a quiet tea, like they always had.

Luke, my sort-of like-a-dad. The only father I’d ever known. The only family I was soon to have.

I wiped my eyes.

“Thank you for taking me in. I’m the oldest orphan on the plane, I’m sure,” I said, grasping at a joke.

It fell flat. Luke merely looked at me with those sad, too-blue eyes.

I’m not good at jokes even on my best of days.

Luke had brought his motorcycle. He tossed me a helmet, which I slid over my ponytail. The street bike was a beautiful one, with small-but-excellent modifications and what I considered Luke’s fine attention to detail. He kept his sled very clean, not a drop of oil or rusted bit to be found. 

I took pride in it on behalf of him, since Luke was never the type to take pride in anything he’d created.

“Lovely, this,” I said, as I ran my hand over the leather seat.

“Thanks. Working on a prototype for Rogers.” Luke said this as he deftly twisted the prosthesis on his arm, equipping it with the small socket that would make for a quick release on his bike brake. When I was younger, I’d teased him that his mods were making him more machine than man.

Luke had taught me to ride. All those years ago. Perhaps that’s why I had obeyed when Nan ordered me to come back to LA, despite the fact that I was of age and could have refused. Luke was a very safe place for me. I _had_ to go live with him. To me, Luke was my very first ride on a bike, clinging to his back as we sped through the Valley. The air singing over me. Safety and freedom in one. 

The first time I’d felt so free.

I smiled now as Luke finished tying my bag to the back of the bike, and I gripped my hands onto his jacket.

He paused before starting the bike. “Rey, you’ve always got a home with me,” said Luke. Murmured it, so neither of us would have to see one another as he said it.

I nodded into his back. The most I could do at that point, really.

But he knew my answer. He gently revved the engine, and we were gone.

He’d gotten a house. It had a bright, fresh feeling, with clean white paint and loads of natural light. On the small side, for the neighborhood, but plenty big enough for Luke and I. There was a large backyard with an orange tree, a lemon tree, and an avocado tree that towered over the house. I worried that he couldn’t afford such a place. I worried that he couldn’t afford me.

“Bless you,” I said, the first time I made a dish of fresh guacamole. God, but I’d missed the stuff. 

Luke smiled. “I’m getting some benefits here, too,” he said, as he slipped a chip into his mouth.

My room was lovely. A large window right by the avocado tree. Wooden floors. A small bed in the corner, with a quilt that Nan must have sent along. Nan. Who was so kind and laughing on the phone, telling me about the shit water pipes in her sister’s house, asking how I liked LA. Everything was so fine, she was feeling great, she said, even though I knew she lied. I was so angry with her, loved her so desperately. It felt cruel, to separate us from one another.

“I hope your room. Leia helped pick the place,” said Luke. “She may drop in for a visit, in a few months or so.”

I scowled a bit and thanked him. I liked Leia, very much. I hated the idea of having to socialize with anyone, at this point, though. Even Luke's sister. I wondered if she would think it odd that I was here, essentially mooching off of her brother. 

My things had preceded me, in big boxes which were piled in the closet of my room. I shook out my clothes, and hung them carefully.

And then I wondered what I was supposed to do with myself.

College was an option. My A-levels were decent. But the thought of sitting in a quiet room all day, worrying about Nan as I read literature - no thanks. Not possible.

Luke’s modification business was brisk, so I took to helping him fill orders, answering emails. I cooked for him, some. We went out for dinner a lot. I spoke with Nan every other night or so. I passed a gentle month in this way. 

And then, the bike came. And with it, a boy that I’d never wanted to lay eyes on again.

I heard it a mile away - literally. Some ass hammering down, on the quiet street Luke lived on. Annoying everyone. Showing off.

Riders are attuned to other riders. Some riders, you don’t forget. Some riders, you recognize from years away.

We’d just finished breakfast. Luke set down his glass of orange juice, and fiddled with his watch. “Early,” he said, as he walked to the door.

I followed him, and looked around his shoulder at the red bike in Luke’s driveway. It was gleaming, spitting out exhaust as someone revved it, harshly.

The someone being entirely too tall for the bike.

“Ben,” I muttered, as Luke walked toward his nephew.

Luke smiled and offered Ben his hand. “Didn’t know you’d be delivering it yourself. Thanks.”

Ben swung one long leg over the bike and stood, balancing the helmet on the seat of the bike. “Happy to,” he said. His voice was aggressively deep, so much more than the last time I’d seen him. 

I followed Luke to the driveway, my arms folded across my waist. I kept my face as blank as I could, even though inside I wanted to twist my lips.

Ben Solo was Luke’s nephew, and someone who had taken great pleasure in being rude and dismissive toward me on the few occasions we’d been forced to be together. _Mercifully_ few. 

He wasn’t looking at me, so I slid my eyes over him. He was a good deal older than me, and looked it. His hair was loose and long, dark as it skimmed his shoulders. His face seemed to have a fairly less-unpleasant set to it than the last time I saw him. Granted, he’d been an angsty young man at the time, and I knew I shouldn’t judge him for it.

It was hard not to, though. 

Ben had never been outrightly unkind to me - no hitting or insults. Just a pile of superiority, comments that made me second-guess myself, my family, my riding. Everything. And all of it delivered with a smirk that I had learned to hate.

He’d lost that smirk, at least at the moment. He’d lost any remaining flabs of skin and baby fat, and gained some muscle. I remembered him as gawky, mute-when-not-being-an-ass, hawk-nosed, tall. 

Now he was a man.

I tried to reconcile the two images in my mind.

I raised my chin as I walked to Luke’s side. “Hello.”

“Rey,” said Ben. “The wanderer returns.”

The forgiveness inside of me, just the smallest flame, flickered away, and I frowned.

“Your motorcycle is very small,” I said sharply.

The ass laughed. “Not my motorcycle.”

Luke cleared his throat. “Ben was kind enough to bring this over. It’s yours, Rey.”

It was a small bike, of a good size for me. It was new and had been gently modified with care - a soft tail, new tires, and utterly clean.

However, there was one problem, which I addressed to Ben.

“This is a dirt bike.” I tried not to let my tongue slide over the last word. I knew that certain...members of Luke’s family were quite attached to dirt bikes.

“Yes,” said Ben. Calmly. “And?”

“Well--” Luke began.

“--I don’t ride motocross. Don’t now. Never did. Never will,” I said.

“You make motocross sound terrible,” said Ben. He sounded good-natured and again, too calm. “And anyway, I never said a thing about a track.”

I enunciated carefully. “I ride superbike. Street. You know this, Ben. Why are you acting like--”

 

“Crotch rockets. You wanna splatter your brains out everywhere--”

I opened my mouth and inhaled, ready to start in on him, when Luke lifted a hand.

“Ben and I chatted, Rey. You don’t know anyone here. I thought...I thought you’d like to ride with someone else. Ben said you might enjoy learning how to ride a dirt bike. I thought…” I could see Luke’s eyes drifting off, and I felt terrible.

I wouldn’t hurt Luke. Never. Not ever. Even when him and Mum had been together, I’d have sooner told her to go to hell than him. Luke was always sad. I swore I wouldn’t add to it.

“I don’t...know how to dirt bike, Luke. It’s not something that’s very popular where I come from.”

Luke shifted. “I know that. And you can get a four-stroke, if you want, and race at the track. I bought this bike for you myself. I know I missed your Christmas gift…”

And I felt like the ass now.

“You didn’t have to buy me a bike, Luke. I have my own money.”

“I wanted to,” said Luke simply. Luke used to ride motocross, before he lost his hand. He’d loved it. He used to reminisce to me about the dirt, the wild chaos of it.

Ben was looking at me, and there was an inscrutable expression on his face. I wanted to know what he was thinking behind that long face, the tilted mouth. But his eyes were lidded, and I could only guess as to what was going on in his mind. 

\-----

I’d agreed to try the dirt bike. I hadn’t agreed to love it. And I certainly hadn’t agreed to lessons from Ben.

Ben, who told me once that I didn’t understand how the real world worked, and that needed a teacher.

Ben, who came for the holidays when I was 14, argued with his parents, and told his dad to fuck off, brazenly, in the middle of Christmas dinner. This was when Ben’s father had been home only a few days and set to return back to the Kuwaiti oil fields in the morning.

Ben had ruined every family gathering I’d ever attended with him present, picking at me until I went into my room just to get away from him. 

And always, the entire family rearranging themselves around his mood.

Which is why I didn’t understand Luke’s tendency to listen to Ben when it came to what was best for me.

But, as I had quickly realized, spending time in the dirt with Ben was preferable to hurting Luke, or even letting a glimmer of disappointment cross his face. I had to ride to show Luke that I liked his gift. 

It wouldn’t be a stretch. I loved to ride anywhere, truthfully.

And so I’d agreed to the idea of Ben taking me out for my first ride on the bike. He said he knew of an excellent place in the foothills. 

This is how I wound up sitting next to Ben one Tuesday afternoon. We’d spent the drive there in utter silence, no music even. I found Ben’s shining, new black truck ostentatious and over-large.

The ride seemed to take ages, and I was relieved when we arrived and began to unload the bike. Ben pulled the tether as he loosened my bike in the back of his pick-up. 

I’d wondered that Ben had the time to take me for a ride in the middle of a day on a weekday. Luke said that Ben had managed to automate most of his grandfather’s old manufacturing business, and so everyone had made a mint in the past five years, _especially_ Ben. Maximum profit. Minimum effort.

Which explained Luke’s lovely house, and Leia’s world travels for her foundation. The truck.

And my bike.

I hated that Ben had anything to do with it. Because I was terribly excited to ride, dirt or not. It was a nice motorcycle - as Ben had said. It was light and clean. Luke said I was obsessed with having a clean bike, and that if I ever wanted to get serious about the sport I’d have to accept that mods would have to be made, and that I couldn’t have everything my way.

I’ve never been one for compromise.

“Put the plank up,” said Ben. I exhaled, briefly. Disliked him ordering me about. He was older, but not my elder. There’s a fairly large difference, in my mind.

I saw Ben tilt his head, and I knew he rolled his eyes, even though he wasn’t facing him. His voice was tinged with mocking. “Or you can drop it if you want.”

“No.” I said. I placed the board on the tailgate and caught the bike as it rolled swiftly down. I tentatively turned the bar, liking how easily it responded to me. I ran my hand over the accelerator, the backs of my fingers over the sliding steel coolness of the brake.

I looked back at Ben. He was watching me, with his helmet under his arm - a black and silver abomination.

“It’s all about intimidating the competition,isn’t it?” I asked, and nodded at the helmet.

“Again, I’m merely appreciative when my brains stay in my head,” he said. He put his hand on the tailgate.

We were in some portion of the Sierra Madres, by a flattened dirt track that was off the beaten path. I hoped that this wasn’t part of Skywalker Properties, Inc., but I suspected it, since there was no one else around.

“I think we need to talk,” I said.

Instead of shutting the tailgate, Ben lowered it back down, and then bounced lightly to sit. Someone that tall should be more awkward. He moved with a slow grace.

“Shoot,” he said.

“I’m sure you’ve got a billion better things to do than be here on a Tuesday,” I began. “I don’t ask that you entertain me. I’m perfectly capable of entertaining myself.”

He raised his fingers to his jaw, where he rubbed lightly. “Is there some reason you hate me, Rey?”

“I don’t hate you,” I said blandly. “I don’t really even know you.”

“I seem to remember doing lots of talking when we were around each other before.”

“Hardly,” I said.

_Are you going to make them play charades again, Rey? Don’t you think everyone is a little tired of it? They’re adults. They don’t want to play with a kid._

Ben’s taunting voice in my ear. Always taunting me. Making me question myself. I hated that he’d made me feel that way.

“But to answer your question...I like to help out Luke. The guy may want some alone time,” said Ben. “He’s not used to having a kid, you know?”

I felt like he’d struck me. “I’m not a child.” 

“Says every child.”

I felt my mouth drop open. “Stop it.” I didn’t speak with anger. I was more incredulous - at his words, and at the way I rose to them.

“Okay,” he said mildly. “I’m just saying, Luke is used to a lot of alone time. He likes his space. You should give him as much as you can of it.”

Yes, I knew I was a burden. That I already knew.

“I didn’t ask to come here,” I whispered.

“Fine,” said Ben. “Whatever you say.” He flicked up the tailgate, slamming it so hard I felt it shudder in my feet. “Let’s go..”

It had rained yesterday, and everything was extra muddy. I grew annoyed with the track, annoyed with the mud that gummed up the tire treads. I grew annoyed with Ben, who watched me lazily from his seat on a large felled log. 

But, I loved the bike - much more than I thought I would. It was responsive and fast. When I had taken it up and down the gravel road, I was met with bliss. I felt the reverberations of the bike in my arms, the hot metal of the bike between my thighs. I was wearing my leathers, which Ben had mocked me for. It was already so decided in his mind - I had a dirt bike, and I would ride in the dirt.

So when it was clear that I hated the dirt, hated the mud, Ben practically ripped me off of the thing when I made a slow stop by him and reached for my bottle of water.

“--Hey!” I said, as I tugged my helmet off. It had been so long since I’d been for a ride, that even with the mud, I felt more than a little buzzed with happiness. 

“What did Luke teach you on?” said Ben.

“He taught me to ride on a tiny 50cc.”

“A dirt bike. Right,” said Ben, rolling his eyes at me. “So you _do_ know what dirt is.”

“So?” I said, ignoring the sarcasm.

“So, I don’t understand why you’re wheeling around in a circle. You’ve got that fucking track brain, Jesus. Can’t you see the options?” Ben threw his arm off to the side.

“What options?” I ignored his cursing. This I remembered - his filthy mouth.

“These trails are wide open. You can ride anywhere you want to. But you choose the track - the same scenery around the bend. Boring. Open your mind,” said Ben.

The mountains were lovely. It was cool, the trails thin and clearly made for bikes. And Ben was right - I hadn’t for one second thought that I should ride through them. Through the grass and trees.

“It’s an unknown,” I said. “Would you go blind onto a trail you’d never seen?”

Ben adjusted the tension on the back of seat. “I think you already know that I would.” He slung one leg over the seat of the bike, and placed his ridiculous helmet over his head. He slipped on the black leather riding gloves he had hiding God knows where.

And then he held his hand out to me.

I hesitated for a moment. I didn’t want to ride with Ben Solo, and I didn’t like the way he was using my things - _my bike_ as if he were entitled to them.

For a moment I just stared at him, before I made my choice.

He was too tall for my bike, but he didn’t seem awkward on it. I slid behind him, my helmet bumping against his as I ran my hand lightly against one of his shoulder blade for balance. 

I didn’t want to cling to him, like a twit.

So I settled for clenching my hands into the dark fabric of his shirt.

I was glad I did, when he jerked the bike into motion so fast I nearly fell. The swooshing air rushed passed us as Ben drove down the first trail, through a tiny valley, clouded by trees and tall grass.

He took a turn fast, and I took a quick breath as I forced my body to balance itself against his weight.

I felt a rumble come from his chest. The ass. Laughing at me.

“I’m not used to being a rider,” I screamed over the thrum of the engine, hoping he’d hear me through the helmet, but he didn’t reply.

I didn’t want him to think me weak. I hadn’t realized how badly I wanted that. We were falling into our old dynamic, which disgusted me. I vowed that he wouldn’t intimidate and silence me. Things would be different, now.

The trail led us over dipping hills, with some tinlets of sliding dirt. I longed to stick my foot out, to force my balance over his, but I knew as well as he did that a passenger is just that - you have to place a certain amount of trust in the person at the helm.

I did _not_ want to trust Ben.

But he was a good driver, which I had remembered from long ago. _”Rey, you could go out for a ride with Ben. She’s really good, you know.”_ And then his mocking laugh would follow. God, how I’d hated that.

He was good. He’d learned from Luke, afterall.

A large hill, and I felt my stomach dip. I instinctively clutched myself closer to him. I could feel the heat from his body curl against mine, but I wouldn’t let our bodies brush. I felt a lot less steady holding on to his shirt - knew I’d enjoy this ride if I would curl my arms around him and be sure that I wasn’t going to fall off. 

But I wasn’t going to touch him like that.

We rode through a field full of purple-colored grass, dotted with white flowers.

I laughed when the bike spit water over a stream. He looked back at me when I did that, briefly.

And then the climb back through the valley where we came from, both of us leaning forward to keep from toppling over.

When I saw his truck pull into view, I was almost sad about it. This was a lovely place, the ride had been excellent, and I thought, for the first time, that perhaps a dirt bike hadn’t been the wrong choice for me afterall.


	2. Chapter 2

I talked to Nan Sunday morning. Her voice was weak, but she insisted it was just a tiny cold. “Nothing to worry about here, Anna has me all bundled up with a nice bowl of soup,” she said. Anna was Nan’s little sister. Nan had moved in with her. Anna only had one extra room, Nan had said And that’s why I had to come live with Luke.

I offered to sleep on the floor. In a car. Whatever. I wanted to nurse Nan, as she’d so carefully cared for me after Mum died.

“No, my dear. You go with Luke. Let the old ladies wither as they might,” said Nan, laughing.

I never thought it was funny.

So I was in an incredibly awful mood as I stomped around Luke’s kitchen, slapping a slice of meat between two pieces of bread. Luke had looked at me sorrowfully but said nothing, before leaving the house to deliver some parts to a client.

I slammed my plate onto the kitchen table, and took an enormous bite, as I cursed old ladies and their sense of independance.

“Why so pissed?” The voice made me jump.

Ben was lounging on the window seat with a newspaper. He flipped the top down and looked at me.

“I didn’t know you were here,” I said.

“I dropped some paperwork off to Luke.” 

“And now you’re reading a newspaper in his kitchen.”

“Yes,” he said, with his deep voice. He lingered too long when pronouncing the S sound. I couldn’t decide if it was affected or genuine. “Is there a problem with me reading a newspaper? Are you committed to sustainability, motorcyclist?”

“Funny,” I said. “No, just think it’s a bit odd to see you and a newspaper. Last I remembered, you had your nose stuck in your phone 24/7.”

Gangly, angry Ben in my mum’s parlor. Swearing, sneering Ben who had no time for me, no patience for me. No patience for anything.

Ben, hating the world. Hating LA. Swearing he would leave as soon as he could. Now lounging in his uncle’s breakfast nook in the Valley.

“I try to unplug, these days,” he said. “Too much technology clouds things.”

I turned away from him, took a vicious bite of my sandwich. “Whatever.”

Ben was suddenly sitting across from me. “Exactly why do you hate me so much?” He folded the newspaper carefully, and set it on the table. 

I chewed silently for a moment, staring at my plate. This was not the day I needed this. I’d nearly cried on the phone with Nan, wanting to be there with her so badly I ached.

“I don’t hate you. But you’ve never given me a reason to like you. Not once.”

“Years ago,” said Ben. “You know how to hold a grudge.”

“And you know how to be utterly unkind,” I said. Hot frustration flooded my face. “You were the only cousin I ever had.”

“You’re mad I wasn’t your friend? Back then?” Ben’s mouth curled down at the corners, like he was holding back a laugh.

“It’s not funny. You may not remember, in your long life of acting like a prat, but you were awful. You made everybody miserable, including me. That’s not something I can just forget.”

His legs were spread, his arms crossed, his hands hitched under. “I don’t remember you being miserable. Little Rey, named so well, my mom used to say. Determined and kind. Made Luke happy. Always chooses the right.”

“Is that so bad?”

“No,” said Ben. “But having to compete with that--”

“I was ages younger than you!”

“Still are, technically.”

I stood up. “I wish you’d leave. Torture someone else. Where’s your father? I know you enjoy torturing him the most.”

All expression left Ben’s face. One hand shot out, sweeping the newspaper off of the table, where it fluttered onto the floor like a dying butterfly.

“My _father_ \--”

“Han.”

I saw Ben’s chest draw breath. I had nearly forgotten his tells. He was angry. Very.

“My _father_ has nothing to say to me, and the feeling is mutual. And you’re welcome to shut up about things you don’t know anything about,” said Ben coldly. He stepped on the newspaper as he left the room, left Luke’s house.

I felt better when I heard the front door slam. Not just because I knew Ben was gone or because I’d lanced my unhappiness about Nan on him. But because _this_ Ben - the angry Ben - I knew how to deal with.

The fake friendship was harder to stomach.

I bought the bike from a man that Luke knew. It was a shocking color of orange-gold and white with gray accent.

It was beautiful. Truly. The first time I slid onto it, gripped my hands onto it, I loved it.

“It’s a BB-8,” said the seller, a kind man with a space between his front teeth. “Not the newest, but...it’s a favorite of mine. I’d keep it, but I’m going overseas for work. Hate to just leave it in my garage. Seems mean to keep it cooped up like that.”

“She loves it,” said Luke. I ran my fingers over the handlebars as I revved the engine. I couldn’t wait to fly on this through the streets of LA.

I turned and smiled at Luke. “I’ll buy it.”

I promised Luke I would drive behind him and not get lost on the way home. I also made an incredibly stupid promise that I regretted instantly.

\-----

“Dear god,” I said. “And you mock me for driving a four-stroke.”

Ben perched on his hyperbike, a slick black with high shine, and long fins on the side. I spotted a multitude of mods. He wore his black gloves again, leathers, boots. Streetwear.

“You hate street bikes,” I said stupidly.

“I promised Luke,” he said shortly. “He thinks you won’t be safe, going out alone.”

After our encounter in the kitchen this weekend, I’d felt fairly confident that Ben would refuse to speak or see me ever again. His relationship with his father had always been poor, so when I’d brought it up, I’d expected nothing less than what I got - an angry, angry Ben.

So when Luke made me promise to go with Ben until I knew the lay of the land, I’d agreed.

Evidently, Ben was no longer angry. He seemed as calm as ever as he watched me.

“Fine,” I said. “I do _not_ need a chaperone, but Luke won’t listen to me.” I threw my leg over the BB-8. 

“Shall we?”

He rode well on the street too - confident. I wanted him to be bad at this. The dirt was his as far as I was concerned, but the pavement, the smooth gray slide of it? This was mine.

However, his skill had nothing to do with my enjoyment. It had been long weeks since I’d been on a bike of my own, and I thrilled to feel the rush of acceleration as we turned onto the 405.

I slipped around a large Cayenne, and dodged quickly in front of small, pink VW. The rumble of Ben’s motor behind me let me know that he had kept up.

It took nearly an hour to finally reach the PCH. I drove quickly through Santa Monica, eager to feel the wind of the coast. I didn’t worry about Ben at that point. I felt the sun on my legs, through my leathers. I felt free. And for the first time in a long time, I smiled.

It seemed like only a few moments before I had to make an abrupt exit and pull into a petrol station.

“Damn,” I said, as I hopped off my bike and headed for the pump.

Ben pulled his helmet off, his long hair falling over his face. “Was wondering when your tank would give out. Those BB-8’s don’t have a ton of go.” And here he smirked at me. “Especially when you drive like a maniac.”

“I drove like myself,” I said quietly, as I slipped my card in and lifted the pump. Ben did the same for his bike.

For a moment, we were both quiet, listening the hiss and suck of the petrol pouring into our motorcycles.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “About yesterday. What I said...it wasn’t right.”

Ben nodded his head twice but didn’t speak.

I cleared my throat. “Can I buy you lunch as pax?”

To my surprise, he let me. We picked a small, plain place off the side of the highway.

Ben ordered a salad, and chewed slowly. He watched me as I cut my grilled cheese into four even pieces and began to dip it into the tomato soup.

“You’re very particular,” he said.

“And so are you.”

“I try to eat right.”

A small smile twisted at my mouth, at the memory of a Christmas years ago. “Twenty Cadbury flakes. Took you an hour to eat them. Twenty. ”

He smiled back at me, just a little. “Put me off of chocolate for a year.”

“But you won the bet,” I said. 

“Of course I did,” he said, like it was a given. “People...like to push me. I don’t like to disappoint them.”

People, being his father. I didn’t want to open that wound again. I cleared my throat. “So, do you ride the PCH often?”

Ben chewed for a moment, as if he were thinking. And then he ignored my question entirely. “Why are you here?”

“What?”

He enunciated with care. “Why. Are you. Here.”

“In the diner?” I set my sandwich down.

“In LA. With Luke.”

“Didn’t...Luke tell you?”

Ben laughed, though there was no humor in it. “You act like _everybody_ tells me everything. And Luke never tells _anybody_ anything. I didn’t know that your mom had kicked him out till like a year after it happened.”

“Luke talks to Leia,” I said.

“Sure, when she picks up her phone, which is rare. She puts about 99% of her energy into the foundation.” I continued to find the way that he looked at me unsettling. Unblinking. Like he was searching for something in my face, something he couldn’t find. “Don’t change the subject,” he said.

“I’m here because...my nan got sick.”

“Your mom’s mom, right?” 

“Yes,” I said.

“Didn’t want to bother with it?” he asked.

“With what?”

“With her. Being sick.”

My face went hot. “No. I love her. She asked me to leave.” I was angry. I would hide it from him. “She said I needed to go live with Luke.”

“Hm,” was all he said.

“She moved in with her sister, and there was only one extra bed. She said she didn’t...have room for me.”

“So you asked Luke if you could crash here? Seems a long place to go for a free room.”

“Stop it,” I said. “You’re twisting everything I say.”

“No. I’m asking you questions in order to find out the truth. So your grandmother moved into her sister’s house. You asked if you could come to Luke’s--”

“Wrong again,” I whispered viciously. “I wanted to stay with her. I wanted to get a job, get my own place. Be by her. Take care of her.” 

I hated that my voice was wobbling. 

“But she asked me not to. She said...I needed to go be with Luke for awhile, that he was lonely.”

“He’s not lonely,” said Ben. “He’s alone. Big difference.”

“Fine. He was alone,” I said. “Anyway, he called me and said that I should come. He wanted me to come. And Nan didn’t want me with her anymore. I can’t blame her for that. I haven’t...been easy for her these last few years. I’m expensive, and I ride bikes, which drives her mad.”

Ben chewed slowly, staring at me..

“She said I had to go, so I did. I can’t make her want to keep me,” I said, finishing weakly.

He picked through his food, put another piece of it in his mouth. His silence was maddening. 

Finally he spoke. “You don’t notice things.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“I’ve always thought...well, people like you. I thought you knew how to make people like you. So I thought you had to know people. But you don’t.”

I refused to respond to that.

“What’s your Nan got? What’s she sick from?”

“Cancer,” I whispered.

“She’s dying, I bet,” he said briskly. “And I’ll bet you already know that.”

“Of course I know that,” I said.

“She’s dying, and she doesn’t want you to watch. She doesn’t want you to have to see it. She doesn’t want you to have to take care of her while it happens.”

“It would be my honor to do that. I wanted to do that--” I replied hotly.

“Yes, but that’s not your choice. You don’t get to choose that for her.” Ben nodded and took a sip of his coffee. “I wondered why Luke wanted you here. He’s just so _in his mind_ all the time. I didn’t know why he’d want anyone in his face, but now I get it. Your grandma is dying, and she asked Luke to take you in so you wouldn’t be alone. And so you wouldn’t have to watch her go.”

I had no words for Ben at this point. What he’d said was so...obvious. 

I was angry at myself for not knowing it, too.

“Don’t be mad for not figuring it out,” said Ben, sliding his arm over the leather of the booth we occupied. “I’ve found the logic of parents to be baffling.”

We finished eating, with few words said between us, and prepared to head back home.

I’ll admit - my first reaction was relief. Relief that I wasn’t the burden to Nan that I’d thought. Glad that Ben was right. She hadn’t wanted me out of the way. She was trying to spare me.

Then I was angry that Luke and Nan had orchestrated this move, had plotted to get me away from home, from Nan. Angry that Nan was refusing to let me stay and help her. Mad that I knew I would respect her wishes until the end.

It wasn’t in me to disobey either of them. Another one of the reasons I found Ben irritating back in the day. He never cared one anyone in the family thought of him.

Ben was smart. He was always into computers, into marketing things that he wanted to sell. He’d designed a mold for making ECM’s more sturdy when he was still in high school.

Ben, the genius. Ben, who’s going places. 

His parents sent him to every day camp and summer school he’d ever wanted. He was teaching his teachers when he was only a boy. This was Skywalker family lore. Ben, who is bright, but gets bad grades.

Despite the bad grades, he’d been offered a huge scholarship at a fantastic university, which he turned down. Said he didn’t need a piece of paper.

And it turns out, he didn’t.

The ride back to Luke’s took place during the golden hour. I slowed my pace a bit, not feeling like I needed to run so fast anymore.

As the sun slanted over me, I realized that Ben was riding beside me, his bike a dark shadow against mine. Darkness against my light.

And I did feel lighter than I had in months.

I parked my BB-8 on the side of Luke’s house. Ben didn’t follow, just sat on his bike and watched me. He did that a lot.

“You coming in?” I asked. 

He shook his head.

“Take your helmet off,” I said.

He paused long enough to let me know that he didn’t have to obey. But then he slid the ridiculous black thing over his head.

“Why?” he said sourly. His face was plain and always lacked a certain amount of expression, so I had to look closer to see what he meant.

“I like being able to speak to people’s faces.”

“Fine. So speak.”

“Thank you,” I spit out quickly. “For what you said. Back there.”

“Back where?”

I wondered if he was purposefully trying to extend my discomfort, but I thought not. Wasn’t his kind of game.

“For what you said about my Nan. I feel--I feel better about it now.”

“Don’t thank me for simple truths.” He blinked at me.

I wanted, for one crazy moment, to ask him in. To ask him in for dinner. I quickly thought better of it.

I heard the whine of his bike for a long time, even after he left Luke’s neighborhood.


	3. Chapter 3

Nan sounded tired again when I spoke with her that week.

I wiped tears away after I hung up the phone. The phone calls were unbearable, but I would never stop having them. Every minute was precious.

Luke held me for a time, and I told him I was sorry for being a bother. Then he taught me how to light a fire using flint and steel, burning bits of root and branch in his backyard.

“You carry a lot of shame,” Luke said. “You shouldn’t.”

I wiped a bead of sweat from my forehead as I struck the flint again.

“About what?”

“I’m not sure. You apologize to me a lot.” said Luke.

“I guess I do,” I said quietly.

“I...worry that I haven’t expressed myself well on this point,” said Luke. “Rey, I wanted you to come here. To live here. I wanted it very much.”

“Oh, right. You wanted another mouth to feed and a person underfoot,” I said sarcastically, as I hit the flint once more. No sparks.

“You make dinner, which is frankly my favorite thing to happen in months, since I usually eat oatmeal at least twice a day. And you’re not underfoot. I loved your mother. And I loved...love you. It makes me think of those happier times.” 

I set the flint down.

“You may not be my blood, but that means nothing to me. Nothing. You’re my daughter, and I’m honored that you would choose to live here.” Luke’s eyes, his tired blue eyes, looked gently into mine. “Believe me when I tell you this - you are utterly wanted.”

I finally lit the fire.

My rides with Ben continued. He took me over all sorts of pavement roads, twisting paths up the canyon, solid straightaways in San Bernardino.

Occasionally, we would stop for coffee - short ones that we drank quickly and without speaking, hot and black, standing by our bikes. Ben was never verbose, which suited me. I found I enjoyed the company.

It wasn’t until we’d been at it a month that I realized he was my friend.

He was still arrogant, and about as blunt as an iron cannonball. I had to steel myself for his direct comments and questions. But, I found it easier to answer him before I allowed myself to get angry. What I’d interpreted as goading on his part seemed to be a strange sort of curiosity regarding my opinions and thoughts.

I didn’t understand his curiosity, but I indulged it, to a point.

“Aren’t you sick of this, yet?” He teased me, gently, as we prepared to set off for another ride. 

“Of what?” 

“Your yellow boot-scoot,” he said, with a derisive nod to my bike.

“BB-8? My lovely, loyal one,” I said, patting the handle. “I never will tire of it.”

Ben looked away. 

“What? You still want me to give up street riding altogether?” I said, trying to keep the hotness from my voice.

“No, not give it up. But I want you to see all that you’re capable of.”

I rolled my eyes. “Please. You make me sound like a biblical epic.”

He wanted me in the dirt again. I knew it.

“I don’t enjoy dirt biking,” I said simply. “It’s just a fact.”

“You haven’t tried it right,” he said.

I sighed. “Fine. You want to go up the mountain? Lets.”

He jumped off his bike so quickly that I knew he’d planned it all along - my reticence, my eventual capitulation.

Ben brought his dirt bike this time along with mine. “You’ll enjoy it better if you’re in control,” he said, as we loaded the bikes up the ramp.

As we drove up into the foothills, a soft rain began to fall. I found the idea of being very wet very unappealing, but wasn’t about to skive off in front of him.

The rain continued. “I’m not driving in this,” I said, as we pulled into the valley where we’d ridden before.

“Afraid?” he asked.

“No, I’m just in a place I don’t know. On a bike I’ve never ridden,” I said.

“Want me to drive again? On my bike this time. Something that spins.”

I considered that - he was looking at me, anticipating my answer. 

“You can actually hold on this time, too,” he said

So he’d noticed my light fingers.

“Fine,” I said, sounding neutral, but reeling inside. “You drive.”

“It’ll be different this time,” he said. “I won’t be so easy on you.”

“I am not afraid of Ben Solo,” I said. And I meant every word.

His dirt bike was an enormous, black Intimidator. Heavy, and tall. I had to brace one foot on a peg as I mounted behind him.

“This is ostentatious,” I teased, as I slipped my helmet on.

“My height is ostentatious. Not my bike,” he said.

“Can’t hear you,” I lied brightly.

My leather jacket covered me from the rain. I wrapped my wide cotton scarf around my neck. 

“Ready?” he said above the din of his motor.

I tapped his arm and grabbed him around his middle, tight, so he wouldn’t catch me dangling with another quick acceleration. But it didn’t come - instead, I felt him tense. The warm weight of him beneath my arms. He was so lean. Always had been, and less so now, but still. Muscled and thin.

I eased my grip some, and so we went.

He wasn’t a daredevil of a driver. He was far too skilled for that. On a bike that fit his size, and mine, there was very little need for me to do anything other than hold on. As we climbed a large hill, I leaned my helmet against his back, watching the scenery of the valley as we rode by.

He was utterly talented. Probably the best rider I’d ever been on a bike with, besides myself of course. He negotiated us around rocks and through a deep slice of mud. The rain misted onto the visor of my helmet, and I wiped it off quickly with my sleeve.

He made it feel like flying. A different kind of flight, though. This one was quick, nimble, always rising and turning. I was used to my slow turns.

The sensation of dirt versus pavement...it was like comparing espresso with tea, and calling them both milk.

As I lost myself in the sensation of our ride, I failed to notice the quick flip of earth as we took a corner. The back wheel slid in the mud. And I lost my grip.

Silence.

My eyes blinked away from the brightness. There was warm flesh against my cheek. I shifted my legs.

“Rey? Rey? Don’t move now,” said a voice - the voice sounded higher than normal.

The flesh pressed against mine, and I finally opened my eyes. 

Ben Solo blinked down at me, exhaled slowly. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I fell,” I said quietly.

“Yes.”

I was lying across his lap, his arm supporting my back. I made to lean forward, to leave him, but he held me fast. “Just be calm for a minute, for God’s sake.”

I ran a few fingers over my forehead. “How long was I out?”

“Not even a minute. I grabbed you, and carried you here,” he said, and looked up at the tree we were under. A tree that covered us from the misting rain.

“Oi,” I said, and I winced. “I’ll definitely have a headache.”

“Your head landed on rock. Glad you had the helmet.”

I saw it, sitting on the ground across from us. A thin crack ran across the back of it.

“Woah,” I said, stupidly.

“Rey, I’m sorry,” he whispered. His dark eyes stared at mine.

“Don’t be. That’s not even the worst one--” I gasped as he pressed his body to mine. As I realized the tenor of his voice was high, thin. Scared.

I shocked even myself as I accepted his embrace. And when he let go of me, I realized that it was me that was shaking.

\-----

“This is ridiculous,” I grunted, as Ben hitched my hip against him, forcing me to give my weight to him.

“Be quiet.” He was back to being impossible.

“I’m perfectly fine!”

“Your helmet is cracked, okay? There’s no way I’m sending you home with a goddamn concussion. And anyway, you made a deal.”

Our deal being that I would let him ‘help’ me into the Instacare, only on the condition that I not be forced into hospital, a place where I knew I’d spend hours and hours only to be told that I’m fine.

So our compromise was struck.

Ben had refused to let me step out of his truck on his own - had made me hold his hand, which I hated doing. The Instacare was in a tall building, and the waiting room was mercifully empty when the doors slid open.

A perky woman whose nameplate declared ‘Constancia’ greeted us at the front. “Hello,” she smiled, her straight blonde bangs cut like a razor blade. “How can we help you?”

Ben spoke before I could. “My friend fell off a motorcycle. I want to make sure she’s okay.”

The woman slid a clipboard toward him, looking concerned. “Is your friend able to speak?”

I spoke sharply and much too loud. “Yes, I’m perfectly fine! He’s being extremely paranoid about it, nothing’s wrong with me.”

“She needs to be looked at for a concussion,” said Ben, as if I weren’t standing right there.

“Aw, you’re from England!” said Constancia.

“I can promise you that her real name is something utterly bland. Like Connie,” I said, as I crossed my arms and sat in a chair in the small exam room we’d been plunked into.

“I’ve been here before. They’re fast and accurate,” said Ben. “It’ll take two seconds. You whine a lot.”

“This really is the silliest thing,” I said to Ben quite sincerely. “I’ve had much worse spills and done less for them.”

Ben sat down in the chair next to me. “Well, I’m not taking you home to Luke with a busted head.”

So that was the concern. Ben wanted to save face in front of his uncle. 

“He’s had a busted head himself many a time. He’s seen me ride. He knows I’m quite cautious,” I said.

“Well, just keep on being cautious. You street bikers. Spill your guts all over the pavement.” 

I could not keep the smile from ripping out of my mouth. “Ben! You have a street bike! I’m sorry to inform you that you are also a street biker!” And then I hit him lightly on the arm.

He smiled back at me. It was a funny thing. His lips didn’t part, the corners of his mouth drifted up only a tiny bit. The smile was in his eyes more than anything. 

A brisk knock sounded on the door as the doctor entered the room. 

“Rey? Dr. Platz. Nice to meet you. Had a bit of a bump, did you?” The doctor shined a small penlight into my eyes.

“I fell off of a dirt bike and bumped my head. I was wearing a helmet.”

“Did it hurt?”

“No,” I said simply.

“Well, that’s good news.” 

"Sir. She fainted," said Ben, sounding like he was accusing me of a crime.

The doctor wasn't fussed. "That can happen, young man." 

He made me stand up, watch his fingers, recite my name and birthdate. A few other tests. 

And then he pronounced me clean and well enough to go.

“No MRI?” said Ben.

I rolled my eyes. Dr. Platz laughed at my expression. 

“Your boyfriend is nice to worry. No MRI required. Just rest today and no heavy lifting. Come in if you start to vomit.”

I squirmed in my seat at the word ‘boyfriend’ but thought that correcting the doctor would only prolong the horrifying awkwardness. As soon as the doctor left, I stood and gathered my things.

“Well, that’s $200 flushed down the toilet,” I said lightly.

“Is it teenage hubris that makes you think you’re indestructible, and that the rules of gravity and force don’t apply to you?” Apparently now that I’d been given a clean bill of health, Ben could return to needling me incessantly.

Which was frankly less frightening than the way he’d held me to him earlier today. His body had been warm despite the rain, a thin coat of dust on his arms, gathered in the fine ripples of his hair as he looked down at me. With fear in his eyes. With great concern.

It was so against the Ben Solo I’d known all my life, I hardly knew how to react. Now-Ben and Then-Ben were at war in my mind, with either one no more or no less real than the other.

\-----

The bakery was not special from the outside. Just said, “Italian Bakery” in red letters, located across from a Taco Bell. But I liked the brick of the building, and I liked that there were apartments above it with their windows open, white curtains blowing in the breeze. 

It was always busy. So when I saw the sign out front, I applied for the baking assistant job. I would, however, be doing very little baking, the shop’s owner warned me. Mosty washing dishes, and prepping food.

He offered me the job on the spot. He said he liked my accent.

I took it. The owner warned me to bring sturdy shoes, that I’d be on my feet and moving the whole time I was there.

I was glad of it. I needed to be busier and to think less.

Luke seemed...confused when I told him that I’d taken on part-time work, and offered me more hours doing his deliveries and anything else I was interested in. 

I suspected that the Skywalker funds left Luke well able to line his pocket as well as mine, but I didn’t want to take his money, especially knowing that much of it came, albeit indirectly, from Ben.

Ben. It was impossible to reconcile the image of Ben from my youth - angry, mean, curled-lip Ben. He contrasted sharply with the Ben that had held me close after I’d fallen off the back of his bike. The Ben that seemed to like talking to me and was protective of Luke.

I didn’t want to reconcile those images. I didn’t want to think about it at all.

So I threw myself into the bakery and assured Luke that I knew the lay of the land at this point and wouldn’t need to ride with Ben anymore. 

At work, a man named Finn trained me - would be my direct manager, I was told. He was tall and strong-shouldered, with long fingers that were used to kneading dough, and yet...I saw him prepare cannoli and cream puffs with a thoughtful delicacy. He looked more like a football hooligan to me and I told him so.

“Not my fault I’m burly. Don’t need to lift weights,” Finn said. “I’ve got bags of flour. Buckets of butter and lard. Keep the fat in the bucket, keeps me looking fit.”

I liked his easy nature, and the way that he could joke about anything.

I told Nan about my new job when I made my weekly call.

“Lovely! And I’m not surprised. Your mum was a crack hand in the kitchen. Shame she never got to teach you much. Ah, well. You’ll learn American recipes, but that can’t be helped. Your mum used to make an American biscuit for Luke--what was it? Hmm. Lots of cinnamon and sugar and the nicest crackled top with the sugar gone all crunchy.”

“This is the best I’ve heard you sound in weeks, Nan.”

“Well, my darling, you’ve got me on my favorite topic - sweets. You’ll just need to keep the conversation to what I know best. Now find out what that biscuit is, and send some along when you’ve perfected it.”

“Nan, I just do the washing up, mostly.”

“Well, I don’t mind who does the baking, as long as I get the biscuit, do I?”

LA was hot in the summer, and I wasn’t used to it. I wore my loosest cotton clothing to keep the sweat from sticking to me while at the bakery.

Ben had been busy with work, which was...weird. From the way Luke made it sound, the business basically ran itself, with the help of a COO named Hux that Ben trusted. But I wasn’t going to ask questions. Not one. Ben could come visit, or not. It was no matter to me.

Ben, who’d held me to him, smelling of rain and salt and something I couldn’t identify. Some dark scent like smoke and dust. Something elemental. Like a meteor fallen to earth.

Ben, who watched me, coolly, waiting for me to speak. Waiting for me to respond. Always watching.

Ben.


	4. Chapter 4

Finn told me that I had learned to wipe dishes and floors at a rapid rate.

“You’re real good at this. You sure you never worked in a bakery before?”

I rolled my eyes at him but smiled. I suspected that Finn knew I didn’t need the money from this job. He’d taken taken to praising me lavishly, even when I didn’t need it.

Still, his good-natured humor made my days pass quickly, and I enjoyed his friendship.

One afternoon, after the rush had slowed down, Finn took me to the front prep area. Smooth wood counters, a few naked carrot cakes, and a bowl of cream cheese frosting faced me.

“We’re gonna inaugurate your ass, bakery-style,” said Finn, holding up a spreader spatula at me.

“That sounds terrifying,” I said, with a grin.

“Utterly terrifying,” said Finn, impersonating my accent. Imp. “But you can do this. It’s a carrot cake, simplest thing in the world. We need to help you ascend the ranks, Rey.”

And so he gave me a lesson: crumb coat, wait, frost, comb, pipe edges, walnut topping. I was doing a decent job until I’d proved an amateur with the piping bag when the top erupted over my wrist. Finn and I giggled voraciously as he tried to scoop the sweet icing off of my wrist and into another bowl.

This was when Ben entered the bakery.

The front door bell chimed cheerily, and I didn’t lift my head from the cake, being too concentrated on not glooping frosting all over the place. Finn continued to tease me, telling me that I was being a wasteful idiot, that he’d have to fire me for this. I was laughing so hard I couldn’t keep my hand steady.

Then I saw Finn go still, the air in the bakery gone all wonky. “Can I help you,” he said, rather formally.

“No,” said that incredibly deep voice, and my head flicked up. 

“Ben,” I said, placing the bag of frosting on the counter and wiping my hands on my apron.

He said nothing, merely nodded at me.

“Oh, Finn, this is...this is, my-er. This is Luke’s nephew,” I stammered, wishing I had an easier way to convey my relationship to Ben. Ex-step-cousin was a certain mouthful.

“Nice to meet you,” said Finn easily. Everyone liked Finn. He was utterly likable.

Apparently, Ben was not everyone, as he ignored Finn completely and spoke to me. “Luke said you’d be off by now.”

I glanced at the clock, surprised to see that it was past 3, my time to leave. “Yeah, it is. But why did you come?” I asked bluntly.

“I wanted to see where you’d been spending so much time,” said Ben. “I’m going to take you home.”

There was no question in his words, and I didn’t have the presence of mind to question him out loud at that second. I unlaced my apron and clocked out after I said goodbye to Finn. I slipped my bag over my head, and walked to Ben, where he was waiting for me, in front of the store.

I’d purposefully picked the bakery because it was so close to Luke’s - a little less than three kilometers. I walked to it every day, as I had this one.

Ben’s hyperbike was perched on the sidewalk out front.

“I don’t need a ride,” I said. “I like to walk.”

Ben kept on striding toward the bike, ignoring me completely.

“I don’t want a ride,” I said. My words were finally coming to me. I hadn’t seen Ben in over a week - the last time we’d been together had crescendoed in an embrace that’d left me reeling and...confused. I felt he hadn’t the right to barge back into my life.

“Get on,” he said brusquely, tugging his black leather gloves onto his long, blunt hands. 

“Are you listening to me?” I said.

“I heard you,” he said tersely. “Get on the bike.”

“I don’t even have a helmet,” I said, my hands on my hips.

He threw his black and silver helmet at me. “Okay?”

I paused and looked at him for a long moment. And then I slid his helmet over my head.

He drove very unlike our previous rides. I couldn't tell if it was simply the unknown quality of being his passenger on the street versus dirt, or if it was something...more. He took corners quickly. He wasn’t wearing a helmet, his black hunks of hair spreading over his shoulders. He sped down the quiet street that Luke lived on.

And then past Luke’s house.

I yelled so that he could hear me over the wind. “You missed my stop,” I said.

He didn’t answer. We drove for another few miles, into a part of the valley that I didn’t know. Past a large stuccoed opera house and a bright black movie theater.

I didn’t ask him where we were going. It was clear he had no intention of responding to me.

Through more suburb and city we flew. He took corners tightly, enough that I had to dig my hands into the fabric at his waist at times. He didn’t seem to have a destination in mind. However, I _was_ enjoying the wind and ride, and didn't to end it, particularly.

As we drove on, I thought. It was the arrogance of his attitude that bothered me...as usual. Him thinking that he could cart me to wherever he wished. And so I yelled at the back of his head.

“Where are we going, Ben?”

No answer.

“Tell me where you’re taking me.”

Nothing. If anything, he increased his speed as he steered toward a freeway onramp.

This was too much. I was starting to feel the tiniest bit captive. Not in danger but...trapped by him. He always wanted to lead. He always wanted to be in charge.

But then we were on the freeway, the wind whipping over the both of us. Ben wore a thin cotton shirt, and small folds of the fabric rippled over my hands, which were resting lightly on Ben’s waist.

We were going too fast - much too fast. And he didn’t have a helmet, which was entirely out of character. I wasn’t worried, per se, but wondered...what his problem was.

“You’re being ridiculous,” I muttered inside the helmet, knowing I wouldn’t be heard.

I thought, perhaps, that he’d burn out of whatever strop he was currently in, exit, and head back toward Luke’s house. But we continued southward on the freeway, slipping around and in front of cars at an alarming speed. 

I noticed that every time he made a lane change and I grabbed him tighter, he seemed to cringe. Just a little. Just a bit of bunching in his shoulder, a drawing in of muscle and bone. I wondered why he found my touch so disconcerting. I wondered...

I also wondered if we’d end up in Tijuana with an empty petrol tank, with the way we were headed.

And so I slid closer to Ben, and felt the tightening of his body once more. I slid the vee of my legs towards the back of his waist. He was so tall that the much-higher mount of the passenger seat only brought my shoulder level to his. 

My legs now cradled his, and I let them rest against his thighs. He didn’t react, but I sensed his discomfort.

The miles rolled by, the afternoon sun sliding over us. There was no end in sight.

I slipped my hands forward, from the sides of his torso to the front of his waist. I felt every muscle in his body explode - every muscle in him went rigid.

I smiled to myself as I laid my head, still in the helmet, against his back.

Was I making him uncomfortable? I hoped so.

Miles passed, and I slowly slid myself against his back. Inching forward so carefully, until I felt my breasts slowly settle against his spine. Did he think me forward? Good, I told myself.

I saw the veins in his arms go rigid, the fingers pressed around the handles of his bike gone white. I felt our bodies, warm from the day, align against one another. 

I spread my hands, flat, against the taut plane of his torso, and pressed my body close. I was all but embracing him from behind, at this point. It was twilight, and Ben showed no signs of slowing.

And then, abruptly, Ben eased off of the acceleration, dove across several lanes for the off-ramp.

Inside of Ben Solo’s silver and black helmet, I smiled.

We came to an abrupt and jolting stop in an elementary school parking lot, inside of a town I’d never heard of. The moment the bike slowed, Ben slammed the brakes, kicked the stand down, and was walking toward the shaded schoolyard, his long legs striding away from me quickly.

I pulled the helmet off, and followed.

“Are you trying to kidnap me?” I asked.

He shot me an utterly vile look. “Stop.” 

“Stop what? You’re the one that took off without one word where we were going,” I said neutrally. The school yard was empty, with just a few cars left in the parking lot. We stood in a small corner of the yard that was covered in soft grass, with mature live oak leaves dripping down on us.

“Why are you doing this?” he said, looking at me with an abject expression of confusion.

“What?”

“Acting like an idiot.” 

I folded my arms in front of me. “You’re the one’s that’s kidnapped me.”

“Shut up,” said Ben, ripping a long, thin branch from the tree above us.

I flinched. We stared one another down for several moments. I could hear the freeway in the distance.

“What were you doing a minute ago?” said Ben, his voice utterly calm. 

But I knew better. “You mean riding on the back of your motorcycle?” I asked.

His face twisted. He had small eyes and a long face. His hair was shaggy enough now to cover his ears, but I remembered Ben’s awkward teenage persona. The way he hated everything and everyone, and especially-- _always_ \--his parents.

“You were touching me,” he said. Whispered. Stepped toward me.

“I was trying not to fall off. You were driving like a wanker.”

“Stop,” he said. “God. You never give me a decent answer.”

“You never deserve one,” I said quietly.

He seemed to consider that for a moment.

“Did my...hands on you? Did that make you uncomfortable?” I asked.

He had no reaction, but I knew his answer.

“Did it make you feel powerless?” I asked, as I stepped very close to him, invading his space once again.

“Maybe,” he said simply.

“Much like you might’ve felt if I’d driven you halfway to Cancun,” I said sarcastically.

“You are incredibly full of shit,” said Ben, as he took the last step. His body was now nearly touching mine. I had to crane my neck up at him to see his face.

“You were mad. You thought I was flirting with Finn.”

“The baker?” Ben asked. “He was ridiculous.”

“He’s a friend. And I’ve got exactly none of those in this town.” I said.

Ben’s hands were on my elbows. He waited a long moment - an endless one - before he spoke. He seemed to be thinking over and over again in his mind. I could see the words behind his dark eyes as he looked down at me.

“You don’t need him,” said Ben.

“And you have no concept of what I require,” I said softly.

“You think you’re a mystery to me. I’ve known you half your life.”

“And I’ve hated you for most of that.”

He let go of my elbows but did not step away from me. “I don’t like the way I feel when I’m around you.”

“And yet you seek my company,” I said, my voice sounding confident and calm. Such a mismatch for the turbulence currently inside of me.

I saw him release his breath. “That’s a mystery to both of us,” he said.

A wry smile curled my lip. “I don’t believe that’s very flattering toward me.”

He raised his knuckles to the ridge of my cheekbone, my skin barely grazed by his. “You’re not the type that needs to be flattered, Rey.”

And for some reason, that sour comment of his made me smile. Just the littlest bit. It made me think things about teenage Ben, awful, rude, unhappy teenage Ben. I felt sorry for him, for the boy with busy parents and two cell phones, for the man with nothing but time and money.

“Don’t flatter me then,” I said simply.

I placed my hands on his shoulders and brushed my lips to his - a kiss. A tiny little kiss. Just my lips touched to his for the briefest of breaths. It was the kiss of a friend, a family member. A very new lover. Or a kiss goodbye.

He frowned at me as I pulled away from him, made no move to hold me close. He crossed his arms across his body. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Ben Solo, I have a map if you need it,” I said. And then I walked to his bike.

I didn’t look behind me, didn’t want to see his face after I’d impulsively done...what I did. I was afraid he would follow me. I was afraid he wouldn’t. I was afraid I’d turn and see his dark eyes on my face. On my body.

But I saw none of that because I didn’t look. Instead I slipped his helmet over my head and mounted the bike. 

After a few moments, he came into my line of vision, and got on in front of me.

Our ride back was slower, in the soft night air. I didn’t press my body to his. He didn’t drive like a maniac.

He dropped me off at Luke’s. I was starving, and Ben probably was too, but I didn’t invite him in.

I handed him his helmet wordlessly. He held it under his arm.

I cleared my throat. “Well,” I said.

“I’m coming over tomorrow,” said Ben, quietly.

I knew Luke would be home all day, so I nodded. 

Ben put his helmet back on, and I walked into the house, where I heard the roar of the motorcycle echo for a time.

In the morning, I asked myself a question: How does one prepare for a play-date with one’s ex-step-cousin?

One doesn’t. One merely tries to perpetuate a facade of normalcy.

Luke had a service in to clean his house a few times a month, and the man was hyper-organized, so much so that Luke’s house felt a lot like a showroom of some fine closet company.

Before dawn, Luke had squirreled away in the basement with his Stratasys and his never ending, enormous rolls of filament. I toasted and buttered a bagel for him mid-morning. Luke thanked me with his quiet words.

“Ben is coming over today,” I said.

Luke nodded. “It’s nice to see so much of him lately.”

“He confuses me,” I said simply. Luke, who was so unemotional, was the perfect canvas for my innermost thoughts. I trusted him implicitly.

“Why?”

I thought back to the impulsive brush of my lips from yesterday. Why, indeed.

“I hated him so much when I was younger. He was so mean to me, before. When I was a kid.”

Luke nodded. “He has always had a fairly standoffish nature. That comes from my side of the family, I’m afraid. I feel like I should apologize.”

“You’re not that way. Leia isn’t that way.”

“True,” said Luke. “And I would never argue that all familial traits are embedded in DNA. But do take into consideration that Ben had an upbringing that others would envy...and yet others abhor.”

“Ben had a lovely childhood,” I said. The words nearly choked me. I thought of those lean years before Mum had met Luke, spent in Council houses, pinching every penny that came our way. 

“I believe you know better than to embrace any belief so seemingly simplistic as that,” said Luke, as he ran his hand over the top of his head.

I thought about it. Ben always had plenty of money, plenty of things, and it still wasn’t enough to make him happy. Even now.

I thought of Leia, when I’d first met her - her hair coiffed high, her manner poised, elegant, and warm. Leia’s work with the Foundation had seemed so glamorous. I’d envied her son as he accompanied her to Britain, Burma, Swaziland. I’d envied Ben’s bright and boisterous father, Han, who charged every room he ever entered with a sonic pulse of light and energy.

I wanted to understand - not just for myself, but because I disliked it when I missed the point in front of Luke. I gestured that he should continue.

He hesitated. “I’m uneasy talking about this,” said Luke. “I feel it is fairly personal. But I can talk about my family, since that _is_ my story to tell. You know that Leia and Han were married very briefly, correct?”

Yes, I knew that. Lovers then divorcees and they would still date one another when they felt like it. It had boggled my mind then, and only contributed to my...jealousy.

For that is what it was. I had been so dreadfully jealous of Ben, who had everything and was still so mad at the universe.

“Ben spent much of his time divided between Han and Leia; I think they had hoped to make a home for him with both of them. Unfortunately, he felt like he belonged in neither of their lives. And the constant push and pull of it was difficult.”

“Two Christmases. Two rooms. Two parents to love him. God--”

Luke didn’t interrupt me, just lifted a finger. This was enough to stop me. “Rey, you experienced so much material deprivation as a child that it is preventing you from seeing what you _did_ have. You had your mother and your Nan. You had one room, but the consistency of a parent that was always there. And when...she passed...you had Nan. And now you have me. You have always been given love and perhaps more to the point of this conversation, at least willing to consider _accepting_ love.”

I pressed my lips together. “That’s true.”

“I believe that Ben’s parents invested too much in providing physical comfort to their son. When he showed a certain...lack of willingness to accept affection, they then gave him the space that he asked for. I believe that they probably should have tried harder to eliminate that space.”

I blinked at Luke, slightly stunned. “What a thing to say about Leia!” Perfect, smiling Leia.

“She would certainly be the first to agree with me,” said Luke. “Though Han has chosen to spend his guilt away from his son. And I can’t blame him. Ben makes things very difficult. Very difficult to care for him.”

“He likes you,” I said. It was true. Ben seemed to come over to Luke’s on a fairly regular basis, and I’d never seen him respect anything as much as he did Luke..

“No, Rey. Ben is my nephew, and he respects what I do. But Ben likes _you_ ,” said Luke. “He always has. And I realize it’s because you’ve just moved here and are rather captive, but...it means a great deal to me that you’ve spent time with him. He’s a very lonely young man. All the money in the world, all the youth and vigor and brains. And he chooses to spend his time with his pain.”

“Some people don’t wish to be happy,” I said quietly. I hoped that fate wasn’t for Ben. I could see that Luke agreed with me from his sad eyes.

Ben Solo would not accept the love of his parents or his family. And yet he’d let me press my lips to his. He’d held my arms and my body against his, long enough that I felt the warmth of it through my clothes and onto my skin.

Was it simple lust? It hadn’t felt like it to me. But who knows what Ben felt. Was ever feeling.

I thought on this as I prepared lunch for myself and ate it slowly. I gave BB-8 a rinse with cool water and then sponged it down with a soft cloth.

I’d expected Ben, but was unsurprised when night came and he still hadn’t appeared. I prepared for bed by slipping on my loose cotton pajama pants and a tired old tank top.

My night sky projector was a silly purchase from years past, something I’d asked for Christmases ago but was pleased to see that Luke had hauled it to his new house. As I settled in my bed, I tapped the button on the device lightly. A soft mechanical whir began, as the constellations, the universe swirled over my hands, my legs, my room.

Ben was in my thoughts as I closed my eyes and dreamed.


	5. Chapter 5

I’ve always been a light sleeper, and when I woke, I sprang up lightly from my bed.

Silence.

And then I heard the soft ping again, against my window.

When I slid it open, I saw Ben underneath the glossy leaves of the avocado tree.

I smiled at him - couldn’t help myself. “We are both too old for this,” I whispered.

“Maybe me,” he rumbled. “Not you. Come here.”

“Wait.” I left the windowsill and wrapped my large cotton scarf around my shoulders. I slipped off my pajama pants for a pair of black leggings and grabbed my jacket.

When I came back to the window, Ben held his hand through the window, still covered in his black leather gloves. 

I hesitated then. “You said you were going to come over.”

He answered me swiftly. “And I did.”

I glanced at my alarm clock. 11:17. He was technically correct.

“Come with me,” he said, and took another step toward my window.

My first impulse was to refuse, as a point of fact. To anger him, because I wanted to. Because resisting him was my default reaction. But, I watched his face as he saw me dither, his expression neutral but his eyes clearly waiting. For my answer. And that was why I did not refuse.

“I don’t want Luke to worry about me,” I said. 

“So leave a note.”

“Okay. Wait again.” I grabbed a yellow pen from my desk. Lacking paper, I dashed off a quick scrawl on the back of my kleenex box and left it on my pillow. Luke would only see it if he came in my room...which he never did.

“How long will we be gone?” I slid my wristlet up my arm and held it under my elbow.

“I’ll have you back before breakfast,” he said.

Breakfast was a long way away. “What are we going to do?”

“Eat, and then talk. I want to show you my house.”

I cocked my head. “Is that a line?”

He just smirked.

I put my boot up onto the window sill, stamping it a bit harder than necessary and tried to sound serious. “Listen. I’ll come to dinner and I’ll go to your house. But I’m only going to go with you if there’s no expectations. Of anything. For any of it.”

He hesitated a moment, with some unreadable look. Then he spoke. “Fine,” he said.

“Fine,” I said back, and I finally took his hand, the leather of his glove cool against my skin.

He helped me out of the window, and I awkwardly placed my hands on his shoulders, lost my balance, and then tumbled into his arms.

He quickly set me right again.

We were on his black hyperbike again, but this time I had my own helmet - a round thing with a yellow visor, excellent for night viewing. I was happy to be his passenger again, and when I crawled onto the back of the bike, I played no such games as I had yesterday - just lightly looped my arms around his waist.

We went to a small pub with a restaurant attached, serving a decidedly un-pub like menu. I ordered a purple kale salad, and was somewhat surprised when Ben ordered the same.

“Why’s that so shocking?” he asked me.

“Purple kale doesn’t really seem...aggressive enough for you,” I said, as I sipped on my ginger beer and cursed the American drinking age.

“I’ll take my food docile, thanks,” he said. He drank water with a lemon in it. A drink as plain as day. Something that Nan used to have every day at tea. Oh, Nan…

I willed my mind away from her. Thoughts of her tended to crowd in during my vulnerable moments. 

I was surprised when Ben asked after her health as he salted his food. “I haven't heard any updates,” he said.

“I didn’t think you’d care,” I said simply.

“Are you going to tell me how she is, or are we going to continue our game of Grasp the Intention?”

“My nan is fine,” I clapped out. “Inasmuch as the info gets given to me.” I paused, and Ben kept eating. I was glad he did. Some things are easier to say to a head of hair rather than a person.

“I don’t think they’re telling me the truth about her anymore.” I said. “Not when I ask. Not even her sister. I’m sure Nan’s got her all locked into some cone of silence.”

“That’s hard, when people don’t take you seriously,” said Ben. “Adults tend not to respect what their children want. Or need.”

I thought of what Luke had said earlier. “Were your parents like that?”

“Yes.”

I chewed on one lip thoughtfully for a moment, wondering if I wanted to dive into this, here. At midnight on a Thursday.

Oh well. “I don’t remember Han and Leia being like that at all. At least when you all came to visit.”

Ben chuckled - a mirthless, ugly thing. “Our visits were like a...farce. Completely constructed.”

“Willfully?”

“No. I think mostly it happened because my parents are terrified of showing any weakness.”

“How shocking that you’ve ended up as you are, then,” I said primly.

One eyebrow twitched at me before he continued. “I know it sounds unbelievable, but my parents aren’t the perfect people you think.”

“I never thought they were perfect.”

“You loved my father,” said Ben, sounding aggravated. “I remember your face when he came in a room. Like he was the best thing to ever exist.”

And so he had been. Charismatic and funny, ribbing his brother-in-law and sister, flirting lightly with Mum, and including me in all conversations as if I were simply another adult.

“I did think a lot of him. Do. Less so, now, I guess, since he’s all but dropped off the face of the planet.”

“Kuwait is not another planet. I have his phone number right here. His address. He’s off four months every year, he could come visit, you know.” Ben slipped his phone from his pants pocket. “You could call him right now, and someone would hold a phone up to his face within 10 minutes.”

“Why don’t you do that, then?” We were in the small corner booth, the lights very dim. I could see the shadows on his face. He looked annoyed, an expression I remembered so well.

Ben stabbed at salad. “Because, I got sick of the shuffling. Mom would get a new assistant, who wouldn’t know my number and wouldn’t patch me through. Dad would be into another exciting sandpile of a workplace every few weeks. It literally wasn’t worth my time to keep up anymore.”

He took a ragged sigh. “But they always put a show on during the holidays. Didn’t want to spoil the day. Even if it was just us there. Appearances were so important to them, I think after awhile they’d started to believe them.

“I feel like you’re being hard on them,” I said.

“Maybe,” said Ben, as he wiped his mouth. He took a sip of water, and much of the righteous anger seemed to drip from him. “I do feel...less angry about it in the recent past.”

I thought of Leia - internationally known for her work with the Foundation, which was intense and important and...consuming. Han, a man with perpetually itchy feet and an innate need for independence.

And they’d thought themselves well-fit for domesticity!

If Ben had been a different type of boy, he might’ve liked it. I would have loved the life that he’d described But...I suddenly saw that it was as Luke said: a perfect childhood for some. A childhood to be abhorred by others.

“They also fought constantly. I found it tiresome.” His formal phrasing made me smile. I think he’d intended it to be that way.

“I understand,” I said quietly. And I did.

We ate in silence for a few moments, crunching on apples and some sort of nut I didn’t know.

“Pili,” he said.

“Hm?”

“These are pili nuts,” said Ben, as he moved his fork through his salad. 

“I swear, you’re constantly reading my mind.”

“No. You sort of...radiate curiosity. Among other things.” 

“Hm,” I said. “I’ll try to radiate less.”

 

“It’s good to be open, if you can bear it,” he said.

“It’s not such a gift,” I said.

“It is,” he said lightly. “Because someone who doesn’t conceal themselves can always be trusted. You can’t hide a thing. And that makes you truth incarnate, practically.”

“Hardly,” I muttered.

“But it can also open you up to a lot of bastard 16-year-old boys who enjoy teasing you,” said Ben, very intent on his salad.

“Teasing! It was simply garden-variety psychological torture. I can only hope that karma blesses you with a son half so as unpleasant.”

“I have already tried to express to you that I know what a shit I was.”

“I get it,” I said. “But next time, can you just be kind to me?”

I was enjoying this banter quite a lot, so I was surprised when Ben set his fork down and pushed his plate aside. Ben grabbed the fingers of my left hand very lightly and squeezed. 

“Rey. I am sorry that I was a shit to you when we were younger. I’ll try to be less shit-like in the future.”

His sincerity surprised me. “Shitty, is plural, I’m sure,” I said prissily, and smiled.

Ben lived in the canyon, a good distance away from Luke’s home. I felt the nervous energy thrum in the dark air around us, as it grew cooler and we ascended further and further, the street gone narrow and winding. 

He stopped in front of one of the smallest houses on the road...which meant that it was still enormous. It was older but beautifully-kept, that much I could see. It was made of a honey-colored wood, with floor-length windows, and a towering facade. 

I slipped off of his bike, staring.

“Not what you thought it'd be?”

“I expected an ugly mansion with steel columns.”

“I see,” he said lightly.

“A fountain. With cherubs.”

“A helipad, perhaps,” he suggested.

I smiled. He never told jokes, per se, but I often found him funny.

And then he gestured to me, his hand held out in front of him. Inviting me to take it.

I sighed. Dinner had been so nice. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t want to put my hand in his. 

But I needed to clarify something first. “I’ll only go into that house if there are no expectations...for either of us. Past, present, or in perpetuity.” 

He paused for a moment, regarding me with some unknowable expression. “As I said before...fine,” he said.

I followed him up many tiny, twisting steps, and with a confident jerk on the handle, I was inside Ben’s home.

White walls, and more wood. The only word for it was...

“It’s pretty stark,” he said.

“How long have you lived here?” I asked.

“Four years.”

It looked like a millionaire’s version of an empty apartment. While clean and certainly host of a living human, there was...nothing. No pots on the rod over the sink. No curtains. No chairs at the plain table in the nook. 

There was one sad sofa in the sunken living room, which I touched as I passed by. A white laptop was halfway slid under it. Not a thing on the walls. Nothing.

“You don’t live here,” I said. “You just sleep here, or something.”

“I have better things to do than decorate.”

Ben busied himself with a glass of water. After I declined his offer of one for me, I peeked into the bedrooms, which were equally spartan. A lovely staircase led to a loft in the tall gable, in which I found some boxes and a desktop computer.

“Do you approve?” he asked, as I went back down to the living room and sat on the sofa.

“Not really. I think a person able to purchase a house like this on a road like this ought to have more imagination when it comes to spending money.”

“You seem preoccupied with that,” he said.

“Having a house with two chairs?”

“No, with money,” he said. “You’ve mentioned it several times.”

I thought of Nan, of the private care I could never afford for her. I knew she was happy with her sister, but still, I might’ve kept us together a bit longer if…

“I didn’t have much of the stuff when I was growing up. I can’t help but notice it now.”

Ben crossed his legs and sat on the wooden floor in front of me.

“Yes, who needs chairs,” I said calmly. I pulled my legs up under me, mirroring his position.

And then an awkward silence bled over us. Ben drank his water, not speaking, the ting of the glass echoing on the wooden floor every so often.

When it became clear that he had no intention or even expectation of speaking again, I did so, skipping any niceties.

“Are you angry that I kissed you?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “No.”

“I didn’t ask you before I did it. Sorry.”

“I accept your apology, Rey,” he said, with that old smirking laughter. Laughter aimed at me. Lovely. 

I looked at him, unsure as to where all of this was headed. I didn’t hate Ben. I barely knew Ben. I knew the boy, and I hoped I was learning to know the man. We’d had conversations, arguments, and more.

But in either case, the person in front of me was essentially a stranger. Even as I saw him carefully set his glass of water onto the stone hearth of the fireplace. As I saw him crawl across the short space between us, like some predator in the wild.

He leaned his black head into my lap for the briefest of moments, his chin nuzzling over the top of my thigh.

I found I didn’t care at that point. He was Ben. It was enough to know him in part. 

I inhaled a sharp breath. I trailed two fingertips over a lock of his hair. Shining. Smooth.

And then he slid his hands up the backs of my legs, cupping my calves, exerting the slightest, most lovely pressure before he pulled me forward fast, almost off of the couch completely. 

It rocked me off of my center of gravity, I opened my legs in order to brace myself. And when I did that, he moved between them.

He slipped his long arms around me then, his palms flat on my back.

Before he could move at me again, I grabbed either side of his face and pulled him up to look at me.

“Swear to me that it won’t ever be weird after this,” I said. “Bagsy for Luke. You’re the one that can find another Christmas when we can’t bear to look at each other in a year.”

“You can have my whole fucking family if you’d like,” said Ben, as he grabbed my elbows and pulled me toward him.

The light kiss that I’d taken from him was on my mind. He rested his dark eyes on my face, my mouth. His body was now flush against mine, my legs curled around his waist as he balanced himself against the couch and myself. I felt the warm pulse of his torso between my thighs, heat seeping through the thin leggings I wore.

“I don’t want your family at the moment,” I murmured. “Just you.”

Before I could finish speaking, he pressed his mouth to mine.

He had the stubble of a few days growth on his face. His lips, which had possessed mine so forcefully at first, retreated. I would have pulled away, out of reflex, but his hand was pressed against the back of my head, holding me fast.

I exhaled a shaky breath against his lips. His mouth was freezing cold, from the water he’d just had.

And then he came at me with more finesse. He mouth brushed against my bottom lip, then my top. One of his hands ran down the length of my jaw and then back again. I felt my heart beating quickly - in my chest, and between my legs.

“Rey, you should never kiss anyone the way you did yesterday.” His dark voice was soft against my ear.

“And what way is that?” I whispered.

“Sadistically,” he said. I was smiling when his lips came back to mine.

And then the lightness was gone between us. His crooked mouth was searching mine, and when I opened for him his tongue flicked into me, hard. His hands pulled my body tighter to his, pressing on every impossibly taut portion of him. At first my hands grabbed on to his forearms, weakly, as if I were hanging on for dear life.

But when I slid my hands through his hair and around his neck, I heard him gasp a lungful of air. He rested his forehead on my shoulder, lightly, for just one breath. And then he came for my mouth once more, pulling me more fully underneath him.

My head was mashing into the sofa at a weird angle, but I was only dimly aware of it. My body pulsed under his as the endless kiss went on between us. Every time I longed for a breath, he was there, his tongue against mine, forcing me to not look away from him, not even for a second.

It was moving fast. Too fast. I wanted a moment to harness one of my rapid thoughts, but knew he would not give it to me. So, when his lips dragged away from mine and pressed under my jaw, I took a breath.

“Not--on the couch!” I said, as his mouth returned to mine.

“Fine,” he growled at me, like he wanted me to stop talking. So I did.

His hands were pushing aside the tiny cotton strap of my tank top, and he ran a long swipe of his tongue across my collar bone.

He pulled away, watched me as I shivered.

“Do you like my mouth on you?” he asked me with a maddening steadiness. I found I had no words to answer him. 

“There are a few other places I’d like to to put it.” One of his hands was sliding up my inner thigh. The other grabbed one breast firmly, squeezed, and then did the same to the other.

I couldn't speak, but my eyes watched his large hands as they roved my body. As I saw my hips rise to his, almost on their own.

“You teased the fuck out of me yesterday,” he said, as he slid his tongue on the other side of my clavicle. “I should punish you.”

“I will leave this house--”

“Oh, you’re the only one that’s allowed to torture people?”

“I wanted to torture you,” I said. “I tried to--” and then I gasped, as his thumb pressed over me. There was still a good deal of clothes and cotton on my lower half, but he’d slid his hand right over the core of me. I felt a hot fiery jolt burn through me with it, and a small sound whimpered out of me. 

“I don’t like that you have that kind of power over me,” he said. “I think it’s only fair that I enact some payback.”

I wanted to tell him that this was a win-win situation from where I was sitting, but instead I merely struggled to breathe. He grabbed on to the waistband of my leggings and slid them down slowly, one leg at a time, his mouth and tongue following the newly exposed skin.

Then he ran his hands over the thin silken scrap of my knickers. I could see color rising to his face - lust. The thought that I’d stirred that in him was intoxicating. I leaned forward and kissed him. A raw, sucking kiss. His hands lost their finesse, and he tugged at my knickers, hard. He was breathing heavily as he ripped them from my legs. He slid his body lower, down between my calves.

I heard his breathing increase when he looked at that part of me. I knew I was probably plump and pinkened -- ready. I had felt the familiar pinch of it all day long as I'd waited for him to come to me. So when he slid two fingers over the seam between my legs, I shivered and sighed.

“Interesting,” he said, but his vowels were starting to sound slurred - his words beginning to take on more breath than brain. My hips were lifting off of the sofa, searching. He pinned them flat with his elbows, holding me fast.

I opened my eyes. The image of him - of his shoulders between my thighs - was intensely erotic.

He parted me with two thumbs, and I made a choking sound when he slid one finger through the wetness that was there.

And then he dragged his face between my legs. One long swipe of his tongue against me, and it was hard not to press myself against him and beg that he give me more. More. _Now._

Time seemed to be entirely irrelevant at this point. But it was almost disconcerting, the way he watched my face every once and awhile - checking to see if I liked this, or that. Like he was banking my reaction for further use. Like I was being carefully studied

It didn’t take long before I pressed my fingers to the back of his neck and shuddered against his mouth, grinding myself against him. This seemed to excite him even more, his hands pressing deeper into the tops of my thighs. 

As I laid on Ben’s sofa, limbless and spent, he stood, looked at me for a brief moment, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and then picked me up in his arms.

“We’re not done?” I said, hoping that he didn’t want me to dress now and leave dutifully.

“You’re the one that said no couch,” he rumbled darkly. He was very clearly aroused, I could see that.

I let out another sigh as he took me to his room.

He placed me carefully on top of the white duvet. I started to shimmy out of my shirt and bra, at ease with my body, as I had always been. Ben was still fully dressed.

He approached me, grabbed my hand. He raised my arms above my head, and pulled my shirt over them. As I started to lower my arms, he slipped himself around me. I welcomed the warmness of him against me, his mouth wet and searching as he found mine. 

His kisses were different, and I had finally figured out why. He kissed me like I was something he was bent on devouring.

And I did long to be devoured. I tugged at the waist of his pants, awkwardly thumbing against the button. Ben grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

I caught myself saying a ridiculous, “Ohh,” sound as I saw the expanse of burnished flesh underneath his shirt. Wide shoulders. Muscled arms. A taut stomach, where I placed my hands. And then ran them downward.

I’d barely touched him when he grabbed my wrists and pushed me down to the bed. He pinned them away from my body for a brief moment. 

“Enough of that,” he growled, then seemed to forget what he’d been doing, as he kissed me, feverishly, my legs wrapping around his waist.

He moved away from me for a moment, and I saw him awkward for the first time in years as he crawled from the bed and slid off his jeans, one pant leg twisting into the other. He kicked at them viciously and muttered a curse. I smiled at that as I propped myself up on one elbow to watch.

He finished undressing and turned, stared at me.

I let my legs fall open, just slightly. Just enough.

He made a deep sound at the back of his throat. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he mumbled, as he joined me on the bed, turning our bodies together, finally letting our flesh slide against each other. It felt indescribably good - his skin hot and pressing against mine. My legs cradled him, and I felt him pressed insistently against me.

I wanted him inside of me. And I told him that. 

Ben rolled himself to sitting and held his hands out toward me. It was not a request. His dark eyes demanded it.

I was more than happy to give it to him. I crawled toward him and held his hands as he helped me to sit over his body. 

He kissed me, and he said my name, whispered it to me as I moved over him. Carefully lifted myself onto the hot, firm part of him. Felt him press between me. And finally slid down on top of him with a sigh of relief. 

Later, I realized that the sound had come from both of us.

I didn’t sleep. Sex was not an act that provided me with sleep. My thoughts ran on, even as I was feeling hazy and at utter peace with the world.

So when Ben drifted to sleep, I slipped back into my knickers and tank top. I wrapped myself in my cotton scarf, which was large enough to double as a shawl. The windows in Ben’s home showed fantastic views of the canyon - the foliage bright from the recent rain a few weeks ago.

Only a few weeks ago.

I opened the sliding glass doorway that led to the deck attached to Ben’s home, shutting it with a quiet click.

The city lights were a softened yellow over the hills, and I settled into a comfortable patio chair, tucking my bare legs under me.

I thought about what Ben and I had just done together. I thought about silly things - what it would be like to live here one day. I smiled at my foolish inclinations, but let myself dream. A light gray on the walls of the den, maybe. A misty whitish blue in the kitchen. Very silly thoughts. 

I reminded myself not to become too silly, but it was only as an afterthought, an aftershock.


	6. Chapter 6

I woke to an unpleasant joggling. 

“Rey,” said a deep voice. “Wake up.”

I blinked my eyes open. The sun was just coming up. I was freezing cold and only halfway dressed.

Ben was wearing the clothes he’d worn last night.

“Where’s your phone? Luke says he’s been calling all night.”

“Shit!” I said, jumping out of the seat. The cold had forced an aching stiffness into my bones. It made it difficult to walk back into the house. 

I found my wristlet under my leggings and flicked my phone on. 14 missed calls, four voicemails.

“No,” I moaned softly. It couldn’t be time yet. I wasn’t ready. I frantically keyed in my password for voicemail, and heard the voice of Anna, Nan’s sister.

Ben was murmuring into his phone, but being loud as he slammed cupboards and drawers around his house. I was annoyed. I was upset. Tears were rolling out of my eyes before I heard her words.

After I’d listened to all of the messages, I shoved myself into my leggings and went on a search for my boots. “Can you take me home now? Or do I need to get an Uber?” I said, my head behind Ben’s couch as I grabbed a boot.

“Here,” said Ben, and handed me my other boot. “I’m going to take you to the airport,” he said.

I guessed that Ben had talked to Luke. Nan was very unwell and not expected to make it for another day. She’d deteriorated so quickly, Anna had said. I was to come if I wanted to, but to not kill myself to make it happen.

“Yes! The airport,” I said frantically. “Take me. I’ll book a flight,” I said, and I whipped my phone from my pocket.

“I already did,” said Ben, as he grabbed my elbow and pulled me toward his  
front door. “We’ve got to hurry though, we might miss it as is.” Ben slung a leather messenger bag around his head as we ran down the stairs and threw ourselves onto Ben’s bike.

Had I to return to that morning, I’m sure I’d have been scolding myself - for neither of us remembering our helmets. My hair blowing wildly around us. Ben driving like an absolute maniac, weaving around cars and in and out of lanes.

But that morning, I just held on to Ben and tried to stop crying. I soaked the back of his shirt, even with the wind blowing away some of my tears. 

Eventually I stopped and contemplated my next move, trying not to count the hours I’d spend on a plane, waiting on the runway, praying that Nan wasn’t dead yet.

Ben eased up on the bike as we exited toward the off ramp. I didn’t realize we were even at the airport until Ben slowed in front of a small, office-looking building.

Ben parked brazenly on the sidewalk, and we threw ourselves off.

“Do you have your passport?” he asked as he grabbed my elbow again. 

“Wristlet,” I said, patting my arm.

“Great.” We walked through the sliding doors, and Ben led me to a counter with the name Star Tours affixed behind it. An attractive young woman shot us a large smile and started to speak when Ben cut her off.

“She’s going to Biggin Hill today.”

The girl’s perfect brow wrinkled. “I don’t--”

“He’s holding for her. He’d better be,” said Ben.

One of the doors opened, and an eager-looking man with a red cap came out. “Mr. Solo? I’m Rex. We spoke--”

“Is the plane still here?” said Ben harshly.

“Uh, yes. We do need to get her on right away.”

“Great.” Ben slid his bag off of his shoulder. “Take this,” he said, handing it to me.

I put the bag on my shoulder, too distracted and frantic to think of anything other than following orders.

Rex came up to me. “This way, ma’am.”

Ben didn’t touch me. We looked at one another for just a brief second, and then I turned to follow Rex.

I wished later that I’d had the decency to say goodbye.

The plane was tiny, which didn’t register until I’d sat down in front of six very brightly-dressed young Asian men. I was to find out later that they were an extremely successful K-Pop band. I found this out when they began playing their own music and did not stop for the next 10 hours. 

It was a private plane. The word ‘Gulfstream’ was splashed across the leather seats. God knows how much Ben had spent on the seat for me.

I hurried to buckle into my seat, and then frantically began to text Cleo, the most tech-savvy child of Nan’s sister, Anne

On plane now. How is she?

I was utterly relieved when the answer came back just a few moments later.

Resting, but hurry.

Hurry I would, as fast as the plane would carry me. We departed almost immediately.

The flight attendant wore a suit, and offered me a variety of breakfast items after the plane took off. I couldn't bear the thought of food. I willed myself not to cry by concentrating on the music that the band was playing, their laughing as they chattered to one another. I followed the tenor and tone of the jokes though I didn’t know the language.

Two hours in, I remembered that Ben had slung his bag onto my shoulder. I reached for it. The leather smelled decidedly boyish. I pushed thoughts of last night from my mind. I had no time to process what had happened between us.

His hands.

Dear God.

I flipped the bag open. Inside was a toothbrush, paste, a bottle of mouthwash. No liquids, I thought, but then remembered that rules didn’t necessarily apply to the rich. A much-read book called _The Dharma Bums_ , which I wouldn't be able to concentrate on, but appreciated the thought nonetheless. There were some slightly more bizarre things as well - a roll of biscuits, six rubber bands, and a flannel.

There was also, bless him, a power pack that would fit my phone and a charger. And a small roll of British notes. Not much. It must have just been what he’s had from his last trip.

Ben. I thanked him silently as I flew toward Nan.

Cleo was waiting when I landed. We drove in moderate silence - the last 24 hours being some of the most surreal I’d ever lived.

I was reminded of when Mum had died. She wasn’t very sick, just persistent cough that wouldn’t go away. And one night, she’d stopped breathing in her sleep. It was the strangest thing. I’d been utterly unprepared.

Nan had held me through the whole funeral. Luke had come, and Leia too.

I did not want another funeral. I was not ready for this to happen, and I told Cleo so. 

Cleo looked at me with complete sympathy, even as her answer broke my heart. “I’m sorry, love. But she’s ready, and that’s what counts, isn’t it?”

I rushed up the sidewalk and into the house.

Nan was in Anne’s bedroom, practically unrecognizable. She was gray and skinny, looking so small tucked into a clean, white blanket and sheets.

“Dovey,” she said weakly when she saw me at the door. “Did you bring me that biscuit?”

\-----

After.

After the tearful joking, the kisses pressed to her face.

After I read to her what the weather would be tomorrow - she was always curious.

After the hands I’d held onto for so long grew cool.

After, Cleo took me to her flat, and, being a widow and accustomed to the needs of the mourning, knew just what to do with me. I sighed in deep relief at the sight of her darkened bedroom, and was nearly asleep before I laid down on the bed.

\-----

There was nothing to arrange. Nan had known what was to come, and laid out a very simple set of plans. Cremation, with her ashes to be spread at Cardiff, where she’d spent so many summers as a girl. This was to be done only when convenient, her will stipulated, as there was no rush. Practical Nan, even to the end. 

Someone procured a black dress and shoes for me. The funeral was modest and short, held at the parlor that Nan had pre-selected.

I got beautiful flowers from Leia the night before the funeral. When Luke called me, to tell me that he was coming, I’d burst into tears on the phone. And then he’d hesitated and asked if Ben could come as well.

“Ben wants to come? To Nan’s funeral?”

“Yes. He wanted me to ask you if that was okay.”

“I...guess,” I said, lamely.

I hated that my stomach started churning after I’d learned Ben was coming. I felt I hadn’t the right to feel anything about Ben when Nan had just passed.

And yet, when I saw him slip into the back of the room at the crem and stand alongside Luke, a part of me felt...something. 

His eyes flashed at me once, before he looked away.

The minister began to speak. “Let us treasure our joys but not bewail our sorrows. The glory of light cannot exist without its shadows…”

\-----

I was washing dishes mechanically in Anne’s sink, the hot, soapy water stinging my hands.

It had been a lovely wake. Lots of food that I remembered from my childhood - quiches, sarnies, sausage rolls, fairy cakes, and bottles of sherry and Nan’s favorite port.

I couldn’t eat a bite of any of it, but it meant a lot to me that Nan's extended family and old friends had brought it. I kissed many cheeks. I heard stories of Nan that I’d never heard before. I laughed a lot. 

I felt utterly drained - empty.

And so I waited for night to fall.

When it did, I briefly considered walking as the hotel was only a few kilometers away. But I decided to order an Uber instead.

“You be careful, Miss,” said the kindly driver. “It’s late, and I don’t trust no one when it’s late.”

I reassured him that I wouldn’t be long.

The hotel was Georgian-era, attached to a posh restaurant. The type of place I’d never afford to stay. It had only a dozen rooms, and when I asked for Ben Solo, I was directed there by the tired-looking host.

I knocked softly, in case he was asleep. I ran a hand over my hair, knowing that I looked garish and wrung out. Like an old flannel. 

“Rey,” he said, sounded surprised. He opened the door wider, and I walked in.

The room was thoroughly modern, with a crisp white bed and taupe furnishings. Ben was wearing a pair of jeans and no shirt. “What--”

I held my fingers to his lips. “Please. Don’t make me listen. Don’t make me talk. Just--”

And then I held my hands out to him. 

Instead, he wrapped his long, muscular arms around my shoulders. 

I let out a soft, shaking breath. “Hold me,” I breathed, leaning my cheek against his chest.

He rested his chin on the top of my head, and I felt his heart beating.

When I lifted my head to kiss him, his mouth was already there. Ready.

Ben’s unearthly intuitiveness served him well, and he seemed to sense my desperate desire to be possessed. I felt so utterly alone, so wrung-out of all the things that made me Rey. I wanted him to remind me of who I was. To fill me with it.

His kisses were not as they’d been only a few days ago. The stabbing forcefulness of his mouth was absent, replaced by lips that rubbed against mine with a maddening slowness.

I loved it.

His hands slid over my jaw, and into my hair. He tilted my face gently, moving me where he wanted me to go.

After a time, he sat on the bed and pulled me between his knees. His hand lifted the hem of my dress, and then slid under.

Those wicked hands. I closed my eyes.

At first his hands just ran up and my thighs lightly, just tickling the downy hairs there. My skin rippled over with gooseflesh, and I shuddered. How is it that such lightness could make me feel so much?

His hand pressed between my legs.

He touched me with almost no pressure, just a light stroking over the top of my knickers. Over me, and over and over again. I tried to control my breathing, to keep standing, but the combination of emotional and physical exhaustion with a helping of lust as well? My knees began to shake.

Ben lifted the hem of my skirt again. He slid my knickers away from my hips and then curled his arm around my bottom. He twisted my body toward him, and then I was sitting in his lap, facing away from him.

And his hand was there again - against the wild heat of me, sliding over me slowly. It was so slow, I felt like I might go mad with the pleasant torture of it. 

My release was a brief and bright thing that left me with my head thrown back against Ben’s shoulder. Breathing gulps of air as I stared at the ceiling of the hotel.

We sat there for moments - not long. But not speaking. Me, trying to regain my breath, my thoughts, my _life_. 

Finally, he rolled me over onto the bed slowly, pulled me nearly off the thing. And then he dropped to his knees before me.

The last time Ben had done this, I’d felt a certain measure of reticence. It was so new between us. I wasn’t sure how things would work between us.

This time, I literally didn’t care. I fisted my hands into the black locks of his hair, my thighs pushing hard against his shoulders. He was relentless, and the sight of his black hair between my legs was a gloriously surreal one. 

When I finally broke, I gulped air and wiped a tear from my cheek. 

He moved away from me then, or he tried to. I scrambled to sit before he could, and I dragged him onto the bed with me, his body between my legs.

There was no more foreplay. He kissed me, hard, and then undid his belt with a rapidity that was admirable. I pulled his body over mine and parted for him.

He held himself against me, then fed himself inside of me.

I’d longed for a rough possession, but instead found the sweet invasion of him to be bliss.

His body was so warm. He raised himself on his arms, looking at me as he drew himself out.

I sighed with the loss of it.

And then he dropped his body back down to mine, his arms forming a cage over me, his hair slipping over my face. He watched me carefully as he came into me again. Again and again and again.

I lifted my mouth to his once more, the kiss that we shared being one that I chose not to analyze further...other than to say that it reminded me of how I’d kiss a lover.

And so I became myself again, before sneaking back into the night.

The day after the funeral, I went through Nan’s things. I wanted to stay busy.

There was very little to clean out, but Luke insisted on helping me. Gran’s closet held innumerable memories, but I did a fairly good job at limiting what I’d keep. Small mementos. Everything fit nicely into a single box.

It was all quite unbearable.

I thanked Anna for all of her wonderful work nursing Nan. She took the usual prosaic view of death that the elderly share.

“Oh, it was nothing. She was my older sister. And much better me than you, my dear. She didn’t want you to hurt, having to see her so sick like that. Her thoughts were always of you.”

Part of me wished to stay in Britain. Nan’s extended family was still family after all, and it was home in many ways. I would be welcome in some manner.

But this is when the true genius of Nan’s master plan manifested itself. She hadn’t wanted me to stay here, with older family that I barely knew. She’d sent me away to spare me the end of her life. But she’d also sent me away so that I could start my own.

I had a life in LA, albeit a small one. It was growing. I had a job. I had a bike - two of them. I had Luke. I had a friend in Finn. 

And I had Ben. Whatever that was.

Ben had kept his distance from me all day, but he did take a load to the charity shop, as Luke directed him. We never spoke, other than my awkward, halting attempt at thanks for getting me on the plane.

How does one thank someone for the final hour of their grandmother’s life? There is absolutely no phrasing of letters that can express it. So I did try, poorly, to which Ben nodded and said that it had been nothing.

Cleo asked me if I was returning to LA. I was surprised to hear myself say _Yes._

Our plane ride back to LA was in no way as glamorous as the one I had taken on the way to Britain. Still, first class was nothing to sneeze at.

“That’s because Ben booked it,” said Luke lightly, after I mentioned our comfortable seats. “I myself don’t mind being uncomfortable for a few hours.”

I glanced past Luke, across the aisle, to Ben, who sat by a stranger. Was there any meaning in why he’d set me apart from himself for this flight?

I wondered and then I slept.

It was a precious relief to be back to Luke’s home. All was as I’d left it, despite it being only a week since I’d crawled out of my window and into Ben’s arms.

Me being gone? Luke hadn’t mentioned it to me. Any of it. So I assumed we’d never address it, which was fine with me.

There was no better man than Luke on this earth, I decided again. As I had many years ago.

Finn brought me daisies the day I returned back to the bakery.

“I’m so sorry about your grandma,” he said, with a peck on my cheek.

Nan, the liar, had money in her trust when she passed. I wasn’t rich, by any means, but I could afford things now. Namely, I was considering attending a uni by me. Not for a full on degree yet, but there was much that I wished to learn. Take a few classes. Ease my way in. Occidental was so close. It was pricey, but would be worth it.

I thought about the little apartments above the bakery, with the blowing white curtains. I thought about how nice it would be to live in one, to be so close to Luke and to work. To begin making something of myself here. 

Luke thought it was an excellent plan.

Ben didn’t even know the plan. He didn’t know because he didn’t come over. Or call. Nothing.

I was feeling rejected, couldn’t help it. It might’ve been that my emotions had made him uncomfortable. For pity’s sake I had cried while we’d last slept together. Perhaps that was why he’d decided not to move forward with...whatever we had been building. Maybe he’d just wanted to have sex with me, and that was enough.

I thought back to the night I’d spent at his hotel. The feel of his body on mine. Inside of me.

Simple sex was not enough for me.

I spent several nights like this, each morning waking more frustrated than the last. Who was he to extend himself like that toward me? To show me his vulnerabilities, to make me share mine?  
Who was he to move heaven and earth to buy me an hour of my nan’s life? To hold me and kiss me like I was a precious thing. Like he _loved_ me.

I began taking long rides every afternoon on BB-8. I was comforted by the pale road, the wind on my face. This was a feeling that I could replicate anywhere: in Britain, in LA, in Brazil if needs be. The speed and joy of it - it was a force that flourished within me. Always had. Always would.

I had plans in place for my life. Good ones. They did not revolve around Ben. The didn’t even include him as a footnote.

This should have brought me relief, but instead made me angry, in increasing doses as each day passed.

Finally, I grew tired of it. Tired of the waiting and the wondering. Tired of lying in my bed and letting my thoughts eat at me, like metal in water.

It was late, as usual, and I wondered if Ben and I were always destined to meet in darkness.

Quietly, so as not to wake Luke, I found my boots and jacket. I slipped out of the house.

I followed my memory up the canyon, revving my engine through the sleeping streets, hoping that the neighbors would assume I was the pig-headed, arse-faced Ben Solo and complain to the police.

Hot anger fueled this drive, more than any petrol ever could. I’d last left Ben’s house two weeks ago, and in those two weeks he’d said nothing to me other than the casual niceties that pass between any ex-step-cousins that had slept together twice. 

I wanted answers...now.

I wanted to know why he’d stopped us. _Us._

The lights were on at his house. I tripped up his concrete steps, and tried the door handle. It was unlocked.

Suddenly, a wild thought. What if he was in there with another woman?

I couldn’t blame him. He’d made no promises to me, or vice versa for that matter. And considering the time and skill he’d lavished between my legs, I could hardly blame some other woman for wanting to be in his bed.

The idea of it made my skin go cold, and I impulsively threw open the door.

He stood right there in the entryway. Arms folded and glaring at me..

“Expecting someone?” I asked, my voice sounding harsh and accusatory.

“You. I heard your bike.”

_Riders are attuned to other riders. Some riders, you don’t forget. Some riders, you recognize from years away._

“Oh,” I said. I cleared my throat, feeling foolish. “Sorry that I...opened your door.”

“That’s fine,” he said, but he was stroppy. I could tell from the set of him. “Did you need something?” 

The old Ben sneered back at me. There.

“Lovely. Are we going to go back to that?” I asked.

“What are you talking about?” said Ben. He knew, though. He was goading me in his old way.

I took a few steps inside and shut the door behind me. “You. Are you going to go back to hating me now? Acting as if I don’t exist?”

“I do not hate you, Rey. Happy?”

“Why?” I asked.

“Why don’t I hate you? An excellent question.”

I longed to hit him. “No, you prat! Why did you stop things?”

I saw a brief flicker of confusion cross his face.

“Don’t play stupid,” I said. I hated that my voice sounded thin. Harsh. Hurt.

“Are you talking about you--and I?” he said.

I couldn’t tell if this confusion was affected. “What else would I be mad about? I thought we...had started something.”

He was quiet for a moment, and then I saw a wash of blood flood into his face, could see his pulse hammering in his neck. When he spoke it was at a dangerous pitch. 

“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Rey? Did you really just burst in here and say that _I_ am the one that stopped this?”

“Well, it wasn’t me,” I yelled at him, my voice at full pitch.

He ran a fist through his hair. “I didn’t _stop_ anything! I was following your goddamned orders!”

“What orders? I didn’t say anything to you about stopping!” I said.

Ben waved a hand at me and strode to the door. “Look, did you need something? It’s late and you need to go. I can’t imagine you’re here unless you need a favor.”

I’d cried more in the months that Nan got sick than I had in my whole life. I thought I was all dry of tears, but I was wrong. My eyes instantly flooded. “You bastard. Sod you. I never asked you to buy that plane ticket.”

“What?” The confusion in his voice was too genuine to be affected. “No! Damn it, no. I didn’t mean the ticket. Don’t be stupid.”

I jammed my fist at my eyes. “Then what are you talking about?”

Some of the anger had seeped out of him, the blood gone from his face. He took a step toward me. “Rey, I’m talking about the fact that you _said_ you didn’t want _us_ to happen.”

“I didn’t. I never did!” I said hotly

“Yes. You did. Under the tree, by your room.”

_Listen. I’ll come to dinner and I’ll go to your house. But I’m only going to go with you if there’s no expectations. Of anything. For any of it._

“And then you made it sound like nothing when you were here last,” he said.

_You’re the one that can find another Christmas when we can’t bear to look at each other in a year._

“And then,” he said, his voice rising in pitch. He was getting worked up. “And then, in that hotel, you asked me to fuck you and then left right after. How am I supposed to feel about that, Rey?” 

“I was miserable! Nan had just died! Have some compassion!” I said.

“You told me not talk to you!” said Ben. 

_Please. Don’t make me listen. Don’t make me talk. Just--_

 

“Plus, you’ve left me right away, both times we’ve slept together.”

The anger was going from me - utterly gone. I was left with a sort of stunned confusion. “Well, I left because of...Nan.”

“No,” said Ben. “You left the bed and went outside. I thought you’d left me,” he finished lamely. “And after the hotel, you did leave.”

He blinked at me, and I felt my heart and mind shift. “That...affects me,” he said.

Was it true that Ben Solo hadn’t been ignoring me? I’d always know him to be volatile and overly-sensitive. Was it possible that he was just as hurt by my thoughtless words?

At the time, I’d thought that he’d be relieved by my promise of no expectations. I’d thought he’d be glad when I left the hotel to go mourn alone.

I’d thought wrong.

I was scared now. I didn’t want to open myself up to him. I didn’t trust him completely. I didn’t know if he would hurt me or laugh at me. I was afraid that he would reject me, because he could. I was afraid he would love me too much and I would grow to hate him. I was afraid that he would love me too well. I was afraid.

I took a deep, shaking breath, and opened my heart to the universe.

“Ben, that night I was here? I was thinking about what colors I’d paint this house, if I lived with you. I was thinking about that when I fell asleep.”

Ben’s miserable, brooding face slowly relaxed.

“And I’m sorry if my words were stupid. I think I was...afraid. I wanted to give myself room for you to leave.” I walked right up to him, my nose inches from his face. “I thought you’d want to leave me, and I thought it would hurt less if I acted like it didn’t matter.”

“It matters,” said Ben, softly. He ran one of his hands down my cheek, tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear. The gesture was so intimate, so tender. I looked carefully into Ben’s dark eyes.

I saw him swallow. Saw him draw something into himself and then face me with bravery and a….vulnerability that I had never seen. 

“It has mattered for a long time, Rey.”

I loved him in that moment. My sweet, somber, sarcastic, broken boy. 

My thoughtful, kind, caring man.

My infuriating, beautiful, _extraordinary_ Ben.

“Oh,” was all I said. I laid my face on his shoulder, and he held me in our first, true, embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a very short epilogue left :)


	7. Chapter 7

I live above the bakery, in a little studio apartment with white curtains. I wake up to the smell of bread baking every morning. I have been here for months and I am still not tired of it.

I work in the bakery almost every day. I finally figured out what the biscuit was that Nan wanted me to make. It’s called a snickerdoodle, and Finn gave the baking of them over to me. I think of her when I measure the flour, sugar and spices. It makes me smile.

Occidental’s tuition was insanely high, and I resolved not to go, until Luke insisted on paying for it. It took me a long time to agree to take the money even as a loan. Part of being loved means letting people help you, I’ve learned. I bring Luke bread, scones, and slices of tiramisu almost every day. He eats it, and we talk.

I love that I have family.

I’m planning for a Thanksgiving at Luke’s house this year. With everyone - me, Luke, Leia, Han, and Ben. I am not certain that we will make it through the meal without an argument, but I have high hopes that my boyfriend will try to be a little kind. Just a little bit. I know this, because he promised me, and he has never let me down.

I hope that his little bit of kindness may one day widen to let in more. But for now, it’s enough to try.

I love college. I have no other way of expressing it. I’m studying urban planning, because I want to help people.

I’m going to Cardiff next spring, and planning lots of things to do and see. Nan would like that.

My boyfriend has a beautiful home in the canyon, but he usually sleeps with me, at my place. He is too tall for my bed, but he says he doesn’t mind. That he’d rather be here, with me, than alone in his bed.

Ben says that he wants me to help pick paint for his house this winter, and I may.

When I last talked to Leia, she thanked me for loving her son. 

But later I realized that that part had been easy. 

The scary part happens when someone wants to love _you_. 

One night, Ben and I were in bed. The moon was high over the valley, and it was shining through the white curtains in my window. His black hair spilled over my pillow, his body long and lean. 

I was laying on top of him, head pressed against his chest. Feeling our hearts pumping against one another. 

His arms held me, his hands lightly stroking over my back. He lifted his head, and he whispered something to me. 

I told him that I loved him, too.

And neither of us were afraid.

/end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)


End file.
